


a soul too deep

by orphan_account



Series: of gods and monsters [2]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, American Sign Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sequel, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 14:30:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15910155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Not a lot of people get their happy endings.Sometimes, though, it just takes the universe lining up just right for that tiny bit of magic.(Or, maybe, it just needs two idiots who don't know how to quit.)A sequel to 'if only the gods had mercy on us'





	a soul too deep

Part One:

for those who dare to hope

for those who dare to dream

may nike grant you courage

and guide your victory

 

Tony Stark tapped the surface of the Mark I Arc Reactor with a finger, the faded, silver sigil on the surface had been partially scratched away and he watched as a blue progress bar worked along the bottom of the screen. The lights had been turned down in the lab, leaving nothing but the various holographic screens to keep him company.

_“The analysis is complete, Sir.”_

Oh, and there was Jarvis.

“Hit me,” Tony spun around in his chair and flicked his hand at a screen. The results expanded across the monitor, small windows popping up in rows. “What’s it made out of?”

There were a few, quiet beeps and the chemical test rose to the front. It was a list. A long one with adenosine triphosphate, water, amino acids, cyanide, arsenic, calcium, oxygen, carbon dioxide.

 “ _It looks like it’s—”_

“Blood,” Tony looked over at the small, glowing Arc Reactor with the faint symbol drawn on it. “It’s _blood_.” He rested an elbow on the desk and stared at the symbol. At some point in time, after Obadiah had fled his manor, someone had not only grabbed the Arc Reactor from the garage but had also installed it and written... something on the glass.

If only Obadiah hadn’t managed to turn off Jarvis and his cameras.

 “Why is it silver?”

_“I do not know, sir.”_

Brown eyes flickered back to the monitors and the results. “Isn’t that something?” He reached for his cup of green smoothie.

_“Sir, there’s one more thing you should know.”_

Tony finished his drink and leaned back in his chair. The wheels squeaked and he winced as the sound grounded against his ears. “What?”

_“I’ve run a DNA test on the sample.”_

Perking up, Tony watched as the windows moved around, bringing one to the front. “Did you test all major databases?”

_“I didn’t need to, sir. The blood is already on the Stark Servers.”_

A picture appeared on the screen of a man whose face had softened around his small, loving smile. There was a Christmas tree behind him, Pepper halfway on the couch trying to push Rhodey away. Wrappings covered the floor, a remote control car sat upended in the corner of the frame, and a plate of frosted sugar cookies was mostly empty on the coffee table.

He remembered that party—just a small thing between friends that had lasted well over midnight.

_“The blood belongs to Doctor Stephen Strange.”_

Glass shattered as it hit the floor.

oOo

Heavy fabric was pulled off a stand and fluttered to the floor of the Sanctum. Dust went with it, billowing up in a low cloud that made Stephen Strange sneeze. He had found a small chamber off to the side of the room filled with relics, overflowing with books that looked as if they hadn’t received a good cleaning for a while, two staircases that twisted upwards to some sort of loft (which shouldn’t have been possible, but the Sanctum seemed to make up its own rules anyway), and what had looked to be a giant globe at first glance.

Four mahogany legs had been carved into giant cat paws and they looked as though they would start walking at any moment. A brass half sphere covered the top of a stocky, cylinder base, Runes were carved over a band over wood and they rotated in slow circles, changing each time to say something new.

Stephen ran the tips of his fingers along the cover, tracing engraved images of people and beasts, of stories and decorations. Along one band Perseus fought Medusa, Set murdered his brother Osiris, and Gilgamesh battled the scorpion men. On the other, there was Thor, God of Thunder, a winged serpent, and Coyote who held a burning branch in his teeth.

Around them all, mouth open and fangs bared, was a massive world serpent.

“The Orb of Agamotto.”

Stephen jerked slightly and looked over his shoulder at the man standing in the doorway. Agamotto. Like the Eye. He touched the small clasp keeping the cover shut and, when Wong didn’t stop him, opened it. Air hissed out, followed by swirling silver smoke that bubbled like liquid over the edges of stand, spilling onto Stephen’s shoes.

A sphere rose from it, large and made of crystal, glowing softly in the dim light.

“It grants the user clairvoyance,” Wong said.

Stephen touched the surface and watched images bleed through unnatural ripples. There was Tony sitting in his lab, him and Wong in the chamber, and Mordo downstairs, reading a book.

“Come,” Wong said. “The Masters want to speak with you.”

oOo

Flushing, New York was lit up by the massive firework array that launched once Tony landed on stage. The Iron Man suit whirled and clunked around him, classic rock music vibrating through his helmet, and he raised his hands above his head to the roar of the crowd. The mask hid a pained wince as the Arc Reactor pulled against his bones and the throbbing of where the firework had managed to clip him faded until it was nothing but a dull ache joining the rest.

A smile was plastered on for the crowd as, piece by piece, the armour was removed.

Words were used to greet the mass of gloves with glowing repulsors, a smile, wide gestures mixed in for a bit of flair. They ate the cake he baked and Tony walked off stage, tugging at his tie as his father took over the screen.

Stephen had been in his home. Stephen had done something to the Arc Reactor.

Then he’d left, vanishing back into the edges of the world.

 _Fuck_.

Everything he had thought had been a dream—Obadiah and the gun, the soft hand against his cheek, that _kiss_ —had been real.

Tony, rubbing one hand over his face, pulled out the Stark Medical Scanner out of his pocket and pricked his finger. The little machine beeped diligently and did its job.

Nineteen percent.

He was dying with no doctor around to save him.

oOo

“This is _bullshit_ ,” Mordo snarled.

Stephen jolted and blinked sharply, turning his attention his enraged friend. He had been sandwiched between two masters—Wong pressing against his shoulder to his right—and stood before the council that had stepped up to temporary fill the absence of a Sorcerer Supreme.

“While I do not agree in his methods,” Mordo continued, arms crossed over his broad chest. The soft gold of his robes seemed brighter in the soft morning light of Kamar-Taj, standing out among the blues, reds, and whites. “Stephen defeated Dormammu, restored the Sanctum, and protected the Earth.”

Master Xu, sitting on the far left, leaned forward. His brow had lifted high on his forehead, beard twitching slightly. “Odd that you defend him now,” he said, accent clipped around his tongue. “I remember when you two argued fiercely about that.”

Stephen flushed and shrugged when Mordo rolled his eyes.

“And yet,” Wong said, taking just a small step forward so attention was on him, “if he hadn’t, Dormammu would have consumed this reality and we would have failed regardless.”

“What of you, Master Strange?” Master Rama said. “Do you have anything to say in defence of your actions?”

Stephen lifted his hands, fingers jerking in the cool of the morning. He had wrapped them in fabric with warning runes embroidered along the knuckles, soothing the throbbing of the rods just a bit. _If laws are what stop us from doing the right thing,_ he signed, Wong translating for those around them, _then they are nothing but a means to control the people beneath them._

“It is the _Natural_ Law—”

 _To who?_ His hands flew so fast Wong placed a hand on Stephen’s shoulder to get him to slow down. _Who wrote the law? Who claimed it was so?_

“Master Strange—”

A booted foot stomped down, cracking stone with a _snap_ that echoed along the walls of Kamar-Taj.

 _If it means interfering in an ensconced, outdated system to help just one human being,_ Stephen met Rama’s eyes, his signs growing jerkier in his rage. _I’m willing to accept the consequences._

Pale, twitching hands fell to his sides and Stephen bowed his head. Not in regret of his actions or words, but in acceptance that there would be consequences and that he would have to answer to them. Kamar-Taj was filled with the rustle of birdsong, of the small twinkling of chimes, and the soft breathing of many humans.

The Masters sat before him, some with their hands on their folded knees, others with their arms crossed across their chests.

“Very well, Master Strange,” Rama said. “Because of your willingness to defend the Sanctum after Master Drumm’s death, we will give you the chance to prove yourself worthy with two tasks.”

Two. Two didn’t sound so bad.

Stephen nodded.

oOo

The Senate Armed Services Committee looked down at the man currently turned around, making facial expressions at his assistant as she tried to get him to forward. There other people—unnecessary people—and the flashing cameras that seemed all too distracting. The ache was in his chest, spiralling across his ribs like a spider web made of fire.

Many of the government officials were wearing the same, dark blue suits with the red ties splattered with white dots. Maybe they all went shopping together. Maybe it was a uniform. The second guy to the right had gotten creative, wearing blue and silver instead.

“Mr Stark, could we pick up now where we left off?” Senator Stern called from his seat, slapping his gavel against the desk.

He looked (and sounded) like the personification of hagfish slime.

Tony rolled his eyes at Pepper and she fixed him with a look that she only got when he was being particularly difficult.

“Mr Stark. Please.”

He turned around and leaned forward to the microphone. The leather beneath him squeaked at the motion. “Yes dear?”

There was a spattering of laughter from the crowd.

“Can I have your attention?”

Tony smiled with unbridled glee and his eyes shone like a leopard playing with a mouse. “Absolutely.”

Already sounding like speaking each word was like dragging a horse out of a well, Stern folded his hands in front of him and continued; “Do you or do you not possess a specialised weapon?”

“I do not,” Tony said, laying his arms on the table in front of him.

Stern blinked slowly. Definitely hagfish slime. “You do not?”

“I do not,” Tony said, frowned, and then shrugged under the eyes of the wall of senators. Cameras flashed in his face and he almost— _almost_ —winced. There was a wall of photographers between him and the Senators and if only they could just _move_ for five damn minutes that would be great. “Well, it depends on how you define the word ‘weapon’.”

Stern managed to shrug with only his hands and looked around in a half rolling his eyes motion. “The Iron Man weapon.”

“My device does not fit that description,” Tony dropped the play for a moment, dropped the fun and games.

“Well,” Stern leaned forward, his eyes widening in a burning, sarcastic manner, like he was prepared to resort to violence if they had been less than fifteen feet away from each other. “How would _you_ describe it?”

“I would describe it by defining it as what it is, Senator.”

“And that is?”

A safety blanket. A reminder. The thickest mask he could find to hide behind as the device in his chest spread poison through his body.

Tony blinked and let the game fall back into place like puzzle pieces falling out of a box.

“It’s a high-tech prosthesis.”

Then Rhodey walked in and everything just felt like _shit_.

oOo

Stephen sat on the floor in front the Orb of Agamotto as the massive grandfather clock ticked away the time. His eyes tracked slowly swirling, milky clouds in the crystal, watching as they folded on top of each other and mixed until there was no difference and repeated it over and over again. It eased the tension from his shoulders, smoothed the lines of his face, and he was lost inside the quiet asymmetrical repetitions.

He floated through them, ran his fingers along the soft waves of white. It felt like combing his hands through a large, fur carpet made from a beast that lived in the sky, not the wet, fog he had been expecting.  Stephen breathed in—and the clouds were whisked away by a half lab, half garage he knew all too well.

Tony sat at his desk, surrounded by his four monitors, and was leaning over a small, rectangular device. Landing on the floor with silent footsteps, Stephen glanced over the four Iron Man suits displayed on one wall, the cars against another, and the repaired windows, but his attention always turned back to the man who was behind it all.

 _“Blood toxicity,”_ Jarvis said over the rock music. _“Twenty-four percent_. _”_

Stephen floated over the monitors and watched Tony rip open a small gauze pad and press his thumb into it to stop the slow ooze of blood. His attention was drawn to the screen as a graphic of lungs and the Arc Reactor enlarged, showing the slow spread of Palladium through the tissue.

_“It appears that the continued use of the Iron Man suit is accelerating your condition.”_

_Oh, Tony_ , Stephen sighed and settled down behind the other man’s chair as a black t-shirt was lifted and the reactor removed with a hiss, a click, and a wince.

_“Another core has been depleted.”_

The reactor opened, the palladium released, and Stephen sucked in a sharp breath at the smell of burnt metal and acid. Smoke rose up, whisked away after a moment, and he rubbed one hand across his face.

Tony replaced the half-melted mess with a new, silver one. “God, they’re running out quick.”

 _“I have run simulations on every known element,”_ Jarvis’ voice echoed around them like a verbal security blanket. _“And none can serve as a viable replacement for the palladium core.”_

The reactor was pushed back into the metal tube with a hitched breath and Stephen sat, floating and cross legged behind him, completely unseen but his hand itched with the desire to reach out, to offer comfort. He froze when the shirt was lifted and the screen reflect Tony’s chest.

Thick, blue-purple veins were protruding from the Arc Reactor, twisting across the already scar mottled flesh in jagged, matrix lines. Skin, bruised and slightly swollen, looked like it was trying to grow over the edges of the metal and was healing from the last time it had been cut back.

 _“Unfortunately,”_ Jarvis was saying, _“the device that’s keeping you alive is also killing you.”_

Stephen looked up at the sound of heels and there was Pepper with a folder in her arms and looking like she was on a warpath. All he could do while she and Tony talked, however, was think about those blue-purple veins and that smoking, acidic core.

When Tony made her his CEO, the magic of the Orb was whisked away, and Stephen sat in the chamber, looking up at the gently swirling clouds in the Orb of Agamotto.

 _Soon_ , he thought as he stood, _Just a little longer Tony._

oOo

There was something about Natalie Rushman from legal that played along the corners of Tony’s mind. She was attractive, sure, but it felt as if she was meant to be so. Like how the colours on a wasp were attractive or the doomed trap of pitcher plants.

Some part of her that sparked with magnetic energy and he couldn’t help but want to look.

It wasn’t attraction—not in the way that Pepper thought and Tony was very much attracted to both men and women despite what the tabloids would say—but something else.

Curiosity, maybe.

Tony invited her to Monaco on a whim.

He realized about halfway through that it probably didn’t look that way to everyone else around him.

But if Natalie’s small, flirting smiles were like a cheese grater against his spine, Justin Hammer’s voice was twenty five blenders each working their way through a cup of ice sitting next to his head while he was trying to sleep on an uneven rock. Tony resisted the urge to grit his back molars and swallowed down what he wanted to say in order to plaster a smile on his face.

There was Christine with Vanity Fair and a conversation Tony would have rather been shoved back to Afghanistan than be a part of so he was grateful for Rushman and her sense of timing, dragging him away to the table and giving him an excuse to go wash his hands of that foul mess.

The 53% blinked up at him from the medical scanner.

“Well,” he asked the mirror. “Got any more bad ideas?”

oOo

“While these are tasks meant to test you,” Xu said, walking along the hallways of Kamar-Taj with Stephen. Students milled about them, some heading to lessons, others relaxing in the shade, and even more in the courtyards, always practicing. Most had shed their outermost layer of robes under the unusually warm sun.

Stephen fought the urge to do the same, but just reminded himself that he would be going back to the temperature controlled townhouse in New York. 

“They are to be treated like you would any other situation,” Xu continued, not noticing Stephen’s momentary distraction. “If you would ask for help, you should ask for help. If you would do research, do your research.”

Stephen nodded and stepped aside for a hurrying group of students. A breeze slipped through the wall, ruffling his bangs and bringing with it the sweet smell of the fruits from the market below.

“Since every Sanctum is currently getting their wards checked and redone,” Xu said, folding his hands in his robes. “We decided you should be no different.”

Spelling out the word with his fingers—failing to correctly make the R with how much his bones were aching—Stephen followed through the hallways.

“Yes,” Xu said, “wards are enchantments used to guard a place against ill-intent, prying eyes, and harmful magicks. The wards on the Sanctums are old and—from what we learned during Kaecilius’ attack—in need of an upgrade.”

oOo

A roar of a car engine, the vibration of the seat, the sturdiness of the wheel all drew away the ach in Tony’s chest and there was nothing but the pleasure of life passing in a blur. The world was nothing, the crowd was unimportant.

With the soft, gentle turns of the track, the race would never reach over three hundred miles per hour, but that was fine; perfect, actually.

It was just him, the car, the road—

And the man in the middle of the track with debris around him.

“Shi—!” Tony couldn’t even move his foot from the gas to the break before he was upside down and looking at asphalt. Fuck the palladium, fuck everything. It was gonna be this that killed him and Tony Stark wished for half a moment that his dumbass ideas didn’t always end up with him being ran over by the monster truck that belonged to Life.

He landed wheels down, hit a car that was already laying on the edge of the track, and was flipped over a second time.

“Fucking—what the _fuck_ —” Tony wrenched off his helmet and threw it to the side, gasping in smoke filled air and the bitter sticky tang of asphalt. Wiping a hand across his face, he pulled at the belts keeping him strapped in the seat and looked back over the road.

The man was still there in his orange pants and electric whips.

Fucking _Christ_.

oOo

It only took about three hours with the combined help of Wong and Mordo for Stephen to finally find where the workshop had relocated to.

For Drumm it had been in the cellar; away from distractions and where very few people would have been able to bother him.

For Stephen, the Sanctum had chosen something close to the relic room, making double doors that hadn’t existed before along the hallway.

Brass, twisted snakes made up the handles and opened to a circular space with a long table in the middle. Racks for materials waited to be filled, rolls of parchment and leather bound books sat on shelves, and rows upon rows of steel, silver, and wooden tools waited patiently to be used. Behind it all, a massive window that looked over the skyline of Manhattan—and that certainly didn’t exist on the _outside_ of the building—filled the place with golden, unfiltered sunlight.

Stephen placed the book of warding down on the table and paused when a hand pressed down on the cover.

“You have been distracted of late,” Wong said, “you cannot let your thoughts be clouded when casting this spell.”

 _I know_ , Stephen signed. _But I think I’m ready._

Ready for the magic.

Ready to return to the man he loved.

Warmth spread through Stephen’s stomach and he felt calmer than he had in months. With gentle fingers, he opened the book.

oOo

An electric whip sliced through a blue and white dragster, sending one half careening to the side to reveal the empty driver’s seat.  Tony swung a bit of one of the cars at the back of the man’s head and would have crowed had he not been immediately slapped away. He grunted when he hit the asphalt and slid a few inches.

There was no time for witty retorts, no time for jokes. Billowing, consuming fear raced through Tony at the look on the man’s face.

Tony Stark was going to die on national television to some fucking asshole in orange pants and he didn’t even know who the damn guy _was_.

Five feet away and seven feet above, the crowd was screaming, fleeing the stands as if they were the ones that didn’t have the two fences and a wall of security guards. Fucking _Jesus_.

Orange Pants slammed his whip into the ground inches from a rolling body and sparks flew up in a burst of white yellow light. Tony blinked dots out of his vision and scrambled blindly backwards, twisting away from another blow.

No Iron Man armour, no weapons, no _anything_.

He panted like a bird in a cage for the first time, now just realizing the bands around his wings.

Heat billowed from the sparking, spitting tech. Felt even through the protective fabric of the racing suit. Tony scrambled to his feet and ran for the crashed, green car. It might provide some cover—maybe just enough time for him to _think_ —

A blow clipped his heel, the force sent him spinning, chest first, into metal. The edge of the car slammed against his reactor and Tony groaned, hit the ground, and curled inwards. Bursts of deep, needle pain stabbed through him, catching his lungs and his heart as he tried to breathe.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

He shook his head and forced his eyes to focus.

Dripping oil down green paint. Approaching heat.

Tony held his breath.

oOo

The screeching roar of metal against metal echoed through the Sanctum as Stephen worked. Goggles covered his eyes and sat awkwardly on his head, making his black hair stick up in every direction. Sweat beaded his brow and the robes had been replaced by a long sleeve shirt and jeans, thick yellow gloves on his hands that had glowing runes along the fingers, and a pair of ragged tennis shoes.

Sparks flew up in a geyser, landing on the floor and whisked away by magic before anything could light.

It had been at least a year since Tony had taken his hand and gone ‘ _look, this is important, you should know something about this’._

Stephen, laughing, had accepted the goggles with a bowed head. _‘When will I ever need to know how to do this, Tony? When will I ever do this?’_ but he had smiled and let Tony press into his back, gently guiding his hands.

There couldn’t be excuses that much longer, couldn’t be any more half assed reasoning.

Tony was dying.

He was _dying_.

Pulling away, Stephen lifted his goggles, and looked over his work. Steel had been twisted into a gentle, curled loop and formed into a skinny S shape. A few smaller loops had been soldered on, ready for their own ornaments.

“How’s it going?” Mordo said.

Jerking, Stephen turned to glare at the other man and his sandwich before stepping back to show his work.

“I hope you were aiming for someone’s garden decorations.”

Stephen huffed and picked up the bit of metal, holding it like a sword. He made a few, careful jabs in Mordo’s direction and the other man laughed, dodging away.

oOo

Happy Hogan deserved a raise, Tony decided the moment his car slammed Orange Pants into the wall of the track. He untangled his hands from the chain link fence and stumbled to the road, almost falling against the black Rolls Royce.

The window was down and Happy leaned as far as he could out of it. “Are you okay?”

Pepper looked as if she was either going to rip someone’s heart out with her bare hands or curl into a ball and scream until everyone in the general vicinity was deafened. He honestly hoped it was the first because he might actually survive it.

“Yeah—” Tony wiped his arm over his face and swallowed his rampaging heart back down his throat. “Were you heading for me or for him—?”

Happy looked between his boss and the man currently sprawled over the hood of the car. “I was trying to scare him—”

“—‘cause I can’t fucking tell!” Hysteria burned across Tony’s tongue.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMNED _MIND_?” Pepper’s voice echoed across the track. She was sitting in the back seat of the car, face flushed red, her eyes glinting like the tops of battle towers. Her nails were digging into the leather of the seat, elbows locked, and each breath was a harsh pant.

Tony stumbled to her window and caught himself on the ledge. “Better security,” he said, whole body shaking even as he tried to hide it beneath whatever stupid point he wanted to make.

Pepper Potts didn’t give a _shit_. “Get in the car right _now_!”

“I—” he emphasized, pointing at Orange Pants, “was attacked!”

“Shut _up_ , Tony!”

“We need better security!”

Happy turned around in his seat and glared at Tony. “Get in the car!”

“You’re CEO,” Tony grumbled, walking around the trunk to the other side. “ _Better security measures,_ ” Almost stumbling, he managed to grab hold of the back taillight. “God, it’s _embarrassing_ ,” he opened the door. “First vacation in two _fucking_ years—”

He let half the door fall to the ground and blinked at it for a second, not quite comprehending the sparks and heated, orange bits of metal.

What. The _fuck_.

oOo

Bubbles of purple, amber, and blue glass floated around the workshop. They glimmered and caught the light, sending a rainbow of shadows across the floor. In the middle of it all, Stephen held a small, straw-like relic in his hands, brought one end up to his lips, and blew.

A green sphere formed, expanding from a dark emerald to an olive before it was just big enough to settle on soft mint. Stephen cut it away with a small bit of magic and watched it float up to join the rest.

oOo

The Iron Man suit clinked as it formed, unfolding and spreading across Tony’s body as he stared Orange Pants down. Electricity popped circuits and burned the alloy, but he ripped the reactor from the man’s suit and watched the police swarm in.

He held the small machine in his hand as the guy was dragged away and, even though the roar of the crowd was victorious, Tony felt nothing.

oOo

Stephen sat on the stairs leading up to the townhouse. People passed him by, not paying him any attention through the cracked, swirling layer of the mirror dimension. The iron swirls—gently twisted to form an imitation of flower stems—had been engraved with runes that ignited like coals against the black metal. Bubbles of amethyst and obsidian clinked like fairies as he pushed the first stand into the ground.

There was a small flash of ozone, a rumble of a beast, and the dimension settled.

The second had amber and malachite and a breeze whisked over Stephen’s hair when it was fully in the earth. Last was glimmering spheres of zircon and dark, smoky quartz. Fire breathed over the back of his neck before it was whisked away.

Stephen placed them in a triangle around the Sanctum, stood before the front door, and raised the mirror dimension away. The warding towers rattled as they were pulled and shimmered, creating their own dimensional spaces around the New York townhouse.

People walked by, unfazed.

And 177a Bleecker Street erased itself from record.

oOo

The plane was too big and too small at the same time and Tony sat looking at the stove stop with the burning eggs. He glanced through the opening to where Pepper sat, picked up the pan, and flipped the entire meal into the trash before it could start smelling. Vegetables were placed back in the fridge, spices back in the cabinet, and the used dishes in the mini dishwasher.

Each breath burned, each heart beat felt like something thick and oiling was moving within him, and Tony rubbed his hands down his face. There was a split second of turbulence and he slammed his shoulder into the wall. A low, deep groan was muffled against his wrist and he blinked planets out of his vision.

 _“All I have to do is sit here and watch as the world will consume you_. _”_

He stepped out into the cabin, tried to keep as steady as possible, and almost fell into the seat across from Pepper. There was a mound of paperwork in front of her, each needing a signature, a note, a revision.

She looked up. 

I—” Tony started, swallowed, and took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something.”

The pen clicked and she set it off to the side before folding her hands on the table.

At thirty-five thousand feet, Tony Stark told Pepper Potts he was dying.

Paper scattered as she reached across wood and pulled him into a hug.

oOo

Master Xu and Rama walked through the Sanctum and Stephen, tapping his feet impatiently on the wood floor, sat on one of the seats in the foyer. He had his hands clasped in his lap, smoothing down the fabric of his robes every so often, and kept looking up the stairs.

Mordo was by him, book open, eyebrow twitching with every jerked movement and subtle sound.

“Stop that,” Wong said, not looking up from the relic he was polishing, “both of you.”

Stephen stilled, index finger patting against his thigh. He shifted and the soles of his shoes squeaked against the floor.

“That’s it,” Mordo slapped the book shut and placed it on the coffee table. He stood up in a rush of green and gold robs, and reached out to pull Stephen to his feet like a cat to her kitten. “You. Me. Sparring session.”

“ _Mordo_.”

There were footsteps on the stairs and all three men looked up with baited breath.

“Congratulations, Master Strange,” Xu said, a twinkle in his eye. “You have completed your first task.”

 

* * *

 

Part Two

hades loved her,

not because of her beauty

or her stubbornness

but because she was made of

splintered bones and bruised kindness

 

Tony sat in the dark of his garage, curled up in one of his cars because he wasn’t quite sure he’d be able to stay upright in a chair. In some distant part of his mind, he heard the door open, heard Rhodey’s voice, but the images on the screen in front of him sucked all of his senses dry leaving nothing but his slowly blurring eyesight.

A hand landed on his shoulder and his head rolled just slightly as he looked up.

“Hey,” Rhodey said, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony opened the car door as the other man circled around the trunk. The world swayed and saliva pooled underneath his tongue. One foot after another. Come on.

He stood.

Hands scrambled against black paint as his legs gave out and Tony cursed.

Rhodey lurched forward, catching him by the arms. “Hey, _hey!_ Tony!” He was gentle in his lift, bracing them ribs to ribs and taking a trembling arm over his shoulders. “What’s—”

“The—the desk. Get me to my desk.” Tony held on as his knees gave out a second time and managed to swallow down the bile rising in the back of his throat. His garage flipped upside down and every bone in his neck turned to jell-o.

Moving was a mistake, a mistake, a goddamn fucking—

“’m gonna—”

“ _Shit_!”

Tony threw up all over the floor and panted, trembling in the arms that happened to be the only thing keeping him from face planting into his mess. Rhodey halfway picked him up with a grunt and there was a hitched breath, a low moan, and a bucket was shoved against his chest, knocking with a low clang against the Arc Reactor.

A Mount St. Helens wave of agony ripped through a panting, heaving chest. One arm fumbled for the bucket and Rhodey lowered him to the ground where Tony retched and shook and gritted his teeth. He panted, saliva dripping from his mouth, and wondered if the black bits in his vomit were palladium or blood.

“I’m calling an ambulance—”

“No!” Tony lurched, trying to get up to his feet and almost knocked the bucket out of his lap and onto the floor.

Cursing, Rhodey placed his phone on the table and pressed the other man back down. “Dude, you’re sick as hell, alright? You just threw up everywhere—”

Yeah. That was fucking gross. Tony didn’t look at the puddle in the middle of the garage and spat into the bucket.

“—and you look like my grandmother at a funeral. Her _own_ funeral, Tony. So don’t—”

“I’m dying.”

Rhodey froze. “You’re—”

Tony wiped his mouth on his arm and looked away. “Dying,” he said, snorted, and laughed. “I’m—I’m dying. I’m—” The laughter turned to choked, broken sobs.

Kneeling on the ground, Rhodey moved the bucket and took Tony into his arms. “Hey,” he said softly, cradling the other man’s head into his shoulder. “It’s okay; we’ll figure this out.”

Tony held on as his body shook.

“We always do.”

oOo

In front of the Sanctum’s library, Stephen reached for the door, pulled back, walked towards the stairs, came back, and repeated the process again and again. He smoothed down the sleeves of his robes, pulled at his sash, picked at loose threads, and sighed.

He sighed.

And sighed.

And—

The door opened when he turned for the fifth time at the staircase and Wong stared at him with narrowed eyes and pinched lips. “Are you going to come in or should I just leave to... whatever it is you’re doing?”

Stephen scurried past, ducking around Wong and standing in the stacks wringing his fingers. Only when the doors were closed did he start his signing, almost knocking a book off one of the tables with his elbow. _Can I ask you for relationship advice?_

Staring at the other man’s hands, Wong’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead before he blinked once, twice.

“No.”

Placing his hand flat over his chest, Stephen moved it clockwise once and pouted.

Wong rolled his eyes and groaned.

oOo

 Pepper walked past Natalie as she was leaving and sighed as an empty martini glass clinked when it was placed on the table. “You don’t have to do this,” she said once the other woman was clear and not listening around the corner. “This party—”

“ _Please_ ,” Tony said, staring down the middle of the glass. “Pepper I—” he swallowed.

“We’ll figure this out,” she said. “We’ll figure out the Arc Reactor and we’ll find Stephen—”

Tony snorted, choked, and when he laughed the sound was harsh and biting. The sigil on the Mark I Arc Reactor had faded. “Maybe,” he said, standing up and shrugging off her hand. “Maybe he’s just not coming _back_.”

Pepper shoulders drooped as she watched him go.

oOo

Stephen’s eyes snapped open and he pulled away from the orb of Agamotto. His heart thudded in his chest, his mouth dry, and he stared at the blank, swirling surface with wide, shining eyes.

“Go,” Wong said. “The next task won’t be for a while and you have time to make this right.”

Hands grabbed Stephen’s shoulders when he hesitated, turned him around, and shoved him out into the room of relics.

“ _Go_.”

Reaching for his sling ring, Stephen looked down at the robes, at his trembling hands, and ran for his bedroom.

oOo

Cars lined the driveway to the Stark Manor and Stephen, to avoid the ragged group of security guards, dropped himself off on the helipad. Sliding the sling ring off his hand, he adjusted the leather fingerless gloves with their dark grey wrappings, and brushed his bangs back. A short jog down the grass and Stephen ducked into the shadows of a group who were already stumbling over their own feet.

One man looked back, met the silver-blue eyes carefully lined with kohl, and gave the black short cut-halfway-on-the-deltoid sleeved turtleneck and just tight enough jeans an appreciative nod. Stephen fought to tug on the skin tight fabric and instead moved past, slipping past the security guards and headed up the circular driveway.

A car pulled up before he could enter and Stephen stepped back as a cursing Rhodey entered the mansion. Large, heavy stones dropped in his stomach and it was only Tony’s bitter laugh, his cold ‘ _maybe he’s not coming back’_ that had him stepping forward and walking through the doors.

Music throbbed through the walls and the floor, people hung around the walls, glasses in hand, laughing and chattering and so fucking drunk. It was dark enough that he couldn’t quite make out people’s faces—but he could see Rhodey.

Pepper weaved with ease through the crowd, “Thank god,” she said; voice barely loud enough to be heard over the music. “I don’t know what to do.”

Small hands tugged on the military uniform and Stephen followed behind as a shadow.

“Oh,” Rhodey groaned and rubbed a hand over his chin. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

By the DJ stand, in full Iron Man gear, was an absolutely balls to the wall college kid wasted Tony Stark. He stumbled in front of the table, tripping over his own damn feet and Stephen clenched his hands into fists and sucked in a deep breath.

Fire ignited under Stephen’s skin and he shook in the entryway and watched as Tony chugged down another drink.

Everyone needed to go.

 _Everyone_.

There was a snap and a bulb bubble busted with sparks and a scream. The music pumped to an empty room and eyes focused on the spilled glass. Stephen moved around Pepper, accidently knocking her shoulder as he jumped from the top of the stairs.

 “ _Stephen_?”

He shoved through the crowd to a chorus of ‘hey!’s, ‘what the—’s and ‘watch it!’s, eyes on no one but the man currently drinking in attention and alcohol like there was nothing but desert for miles and the bottle was an oasis. Blue lights played across billion dollar features, managing to disguise heavy bags under bloodshot eyes.

One hop got him onto the mini stage as Tony tried to get back up to his feet. Stephen ripped the mic from the DJ, and pressed it into a speaker. The feedback loop ripped through the mansion and stomped the party under giant, heavy hiking boots.

Sure that he had everyone’s attention, Stephen pointed to the exit.

“What—” Tony slurred, finally managing to get up.

Stephen turned to reach out, to steady the machinery, and saw something glint out of the corner of his eye. He ducked and glass shattered against the wall where his head had been. With bared teeth, he turned towards the crowd.

“Police!” Rhodey, hands cupped around his mouth, yelled from the entry way. “ _Scram_!”

The party goers scattered like ants.

Stephen waited until most of the room was clear and Pepper was shoving the last of the stragglers towards the door before he turned to Tony. The Iron Man suit was heavy and whirled with every movement—but it moved with the person inside it who just so happened to be drowning in his drunkenness.

Gloved, glowing hands reached up for Stephen’s cheeks and he flinched before he was grabbed.

“You,” Tony squinted up at him. “Are you real?”

Stephen nodded and winced when metal pinched his skin. Taking a hold of Tony’s wrists, he slowly pulled the hands away.

“Thought you were real before,” Tony grumbled, laughed, and then shoved his hands against a slim chest.

A yelp tore through Stephen’s lips and he stumbled back, hip hitting the DJ’s stand, almost knocking the computer and rest of the tech to the floor. Stephen brushed down the front of his shirt and saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

Rhodey was approaching, his expression thunderous as he watched Tony.

Shaking his head, Stephen waved him off.

“What? Not gonna say anything?” Boots were heavy and bulky, unable to move fully forward so when Tony took a step too far his balance tilted. He stomped back, wood cracking under the suit, and lifted a hand.

The repulsors buzzed and opened.

“Tony! _Stop_!” Rhodey lurched forward.

A forearm knocked the hand to the side and Stephen slid into Tony’s space, past the reach of his arms. His palm slammed into the red chest plate and gold slid through every crack, finding screws and latches. It looked as if liquid fire had been spilled across the metal.

The magic expanded, tearing Iron Man apart.

Their support gone, knees gave out and Stephen caught the other man. A grunt rose through his throat as a nose jabbed into his sternum.

Flashing lights were turned off and the mansion brightened, leaving the garbage and mess of the party exposed. Leaving _Stephen_ exposed.

“Figures,” Tony slurred and his fingers were digging into pale skin. “I do something _stupid_ and you come back.”

The sigh that left Stephen’s mouth was fond and rushed and full of something he couldn’t deal with at that very second. He brushed back sweaty hair and pulled a blabbering, drunk man to his chest.

“You,” Rhodey started and was stopped by the ringing of his phone. He glanced down at the screen and rolled his eyes. “We’re going to talk about where you disappeared to,” two fingers pointed at Stephen’s heart. “And you’re not allowed to do it again, got it?”

Balancing Tony against his chest, Stephen offered his pinkie.

“What are you?” Rhodey said as he hooked his own little finger around it. “ _Five_?”

Stephen just shrugged and grunted as arms were thrown around his neck. A wave of nauseating claustrophobia hit him in the gut because touching, touching, too much fucking _touching_ —

 _Breathe_.

He breathed.

Pepper squeezed his shoulders, kissed his cheek, and ignored the drunk mumbles of Tony. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she breathed against his skin. Stephen wrapped one trembling arm around her torso, squeezing just as hard until she leaned away and smacked his shoulder. “But if you ever, ever, _ever_ , think about doing that again—”

Stephen nodded and crossed an X over his heart. She smiled, though it was small and odd—twisted a bit by confusion. Rhodey headed towards the main door, already arguing with someone on the phone and Pepper followed him out.

“I thought you were gone,” Tony mumbled into the black shirt and held on as tight as he could. His red shirt was damp with sweat, legs trembling and unable to stay up.

Stephen leaned down and groaned, lifting the other man into his arms.

“Nah,” there was a laugh and the smell of vodka washed over a wrinkled nose. “Nah, maybe I am dead,” Tony slurred, “Stephen’s too much of a... of a _skinny bitch_.”

Stephen rolled his eyes.

What a _mess_.

oOo

Magic undid small, black buttons and Stephen threw the crimson shirt and trousers into the hamper. He had removed his own shoes and gloves before entering the bedroom and set Tony (dressed only in his boxers) down on the toilet seat as he started the shower. The fall of the water mimicked the rain and he watched it, let it ease the hyper neurons snapping like angry crocodiles in his brain.

Stephen jerked sharply as hands slipped around his hips, tracing the hem of the dark jeans where they dipped along his waist. There was a rising panic, a well of unease, but it settled at the sight of sun kissed skin and the sound of low, pleased humming.

Capturing the wandering fingers before they could go any farther, Stephen turned in Tony’s arms.

There was a doped up smile on the shorter man’s face and his eyes moved over the flexing muscle in lean arms from long hours of spell work and martial arts, up to defined shoulders and the gentle swell of pectorals that tapered off to a still skinny as hell waist.

“I’m ‘kay with dyin’ if you’re the reward,” Tony hummed, hiccupped, and swayed into Stephen. His chin almost smacked into a sternum until a hand pressed against his forehead, shoving him back.

Tony whined, his eyes covered by a large, pale palm and reached blindly in front of him.

Balancing on one leg, Stephen reached for a towel while trying to keep octopus limbs from wrapping around his torso.

“Take the _pants_ off,” Tony managed to hook his fingers through belt loops and tugged milky skin back. His facial hair scratched across back muscles and he kissed over a spine. “ _Please_?” The word was drawn out into a long, needy whimper. He ran his hands down denim, over thighs, and moaned. “I’m _dyin’_ here.”

Stephen laughed softly and managed to grab one of the rolled towels.

“Look, ’kay? We can trade—”

Silk boxers were thrown across the floor.

Oh boy.

A flush dusted over pale cheeks and Stephen drew in a long breath as palms settled on the curve of his ass and _squeezed_. His heart was pounding in his chest, a panicking _thump, thump, thump_ that had nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with smoke breath and flapping fabric and—

Tony giggled and pressed his cheek into Stephen’s back. “Bubble butt.”

Lungs managed to pull in a deep, gasping breath and he was back in a bathroom in Malibu, California.

Stephen pulled away and firmly—but gently—guided Tony’s swaying body underneath the water before closing the shower door and locking it with gold sparks and a flick of a finger. He took a moment to breathe, to sooth his hands over his skin, to take in the soft vanilla and lavender that had always filled the mansion.

Water splashed across the tile and there was a second of drunk sputtering before palms were placed against the see-through wall. 

Standing on the other side of the glass, Stephen looked over a pair of widened brown eyes and a puppy dog pout. He knew that ploy. It was what every single one of those damn Sarah McLachlan commercials used to get money.

One long, trembling finger pointed at the bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and moisturizing body scrubs.

“No,” Tony crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his chin down.

Stephen placed his hands on his hips and lifted an eyebrow as brown eyes dragged down his torso. He placed one hand over the button of his jeans and pointed, once more, at the plastic bottles.

Tony Stark scrambled for his shampoo, yanked the cap off with his teeth, and dumped the bottle over his head.

Stephen snorted but undid the button and left the edges open, revealing the silver band of his underwear. His jeans fell further down his waist, revealing more creamy, soft skin as Tony rubbed his hands through his hair. White suds dripped down bronze shoulders, ran over the defined chest, and blue eyes flickered, focused, and narrowed on the lines of bruising purple that came from the Arc Reactor.

Amusement sharpened to the analytical stare of a doctor and Stephen took in the bruised purple veins protruding from the Arc Reactor. He tore his attention away as Tony ducked under the water and shook his head like a dog, splattering the glass with suds.

“Next?” Tony called, his hair plastered to his face even as he swayed ever so slightly.

Stephen fingered the brass zipper.

Conditioner was squeezed out with a pathetic puffy farting sound and calloused fingers ran it through brown locks, paying attention to the ends while dark eyes watched the zipper go down. Stephen’s breath hitched as Tony licked his bottom lip and stared at the blue that peeked through the brass teeth and black denim.

Fingers combed out wet hair, gently untangling any knots before reaching for the body scrub. “Wait,” Tony called as he grabbed the bottle. “Wait—can I make a request?”

Stephen tilted his head to the side.

“When you take ‘em off, can I get the uhhh...” Tony giggled, “the _back_ view?”

Stephen sighed, rolled his eyes, but turned around. Hooking his thumbs over the edges of the fabric, he bit his bottom lip and slowly pushed the fabric down. An appreciate moan echoed through the bathroom and a cap snapped open.

“I _love_ your butt,” Tony sighed. “’S such a _nice_ butt.”

Cheeks burning, Stephen looked in the mirror and watched as hands dragged over a chest, dipped across a stomach, and—

Stephen turned away and took another deep breath, shoving his jeans with less finesse than he started with and stepped out of the fabric. There was a slow clenching in his chest and he pressed his palm over his racing heart.

 _You’re okay_ , he told his rabbit heart and breathed in. Coconut had filled the bathroom—a by product of the shower. Stephen closed his eyes and relaxed into it. Each bit of his skin felt too tight so, keeping the door to the shower locked (and leaving Tony to his fun), Stephen walked into the bedroom and kept an eye on the shower.

His clothing was still in the drawers and he tugged on a pair of soft lounge pants and an old t-shirt.

“Aww,” Tony pouted when Stephen walked back in. “I’m going to miss those legs.”

Stephen laughed softly and unlocked the shower, opening a towel to smother the other man in. A wiggling Tony burrito chuckled in his arms and was pulled out to the bed only to be knocked onto the mattress with a light shove. Fingers dug around for the blood red and gold silk boxers as a billionaire genius struggled to find the exit to his wrappings.

Huffing, his hair in messy wet spikes, Tony pulled himself out of the towel and glared at the clothing. “My house,” he grumbled, “and I wanna be _naked_.”

Wadding the fabric into a ball, Stephen threw it at the other man’s face.

Tony sputtered like a car engine and flopped backwards like he was auditioning for the role of a teenager. “Betrayal!” He howled, “Outrage!”

Stephen rolled his eyes, made sure the towel covered the naked lap, and climbed up like a spider that knew it was being watched.

The wailing stopped and Tony stared at him with pupil blown eyes. “What—”

Hand hovering of the Arc Reactor, Stephen licked his lips. His eyes narrowed, his mouth opened, but there was no sound. He tapped the glass as gently as he dared and hoped the question was easy enough to read on his face.

Tony hesitated and there was a moment where his chest froze, where he wasn’t breathing. He exhaled and nodded.

Stephen didn’t touch the reactor, or the swollen, bruised skin around the metal tube. He closed his eyes and, with a soft inhale of coconut, let his soul _fall_. Every cell in his body burned with firework bursts of energy but he didn’t care about those.

Beneath his palms, there was the clinking, carrot cake sweetness of Tony. Dark lightning curled through him, rotting from the inside and Stephen watched as it twisted, inching forward, slithering through skin and muscle. A whole universe, poisoned.

A wave of warm water washed over them and Stephen felt the chest beneath his hands rise and fall. The physical abandoned him and there was nothing except the electrical flashes of nerves. Scalpels made of willpower cut away the mould, digging out the roots. Tools of stardust and the multiverse claimed discharge and split it back to the basics, scattering atoms along the edges of the Dark Dimension, and left nothing.

Layer by layer Stephen peeled back and let the energy of the universe eat away metal remains, cleansing veins, clearing cells. It was Doctor’s work. It was spell work.

Beneath trembling, gentle hands; Tony sighed.

Stephen opened his eyes.

The Palladium was gone.

Not fully gone—it hovered above the Arc Reactor, spinning in a liquid mass that had no conceived shape. Pulling away from a passed out Tony, Stephen stumbled as he stood, mouth dry and eyes barely open. But he took the palladium with him and pressed his palms together.

Magic compressed the metal until it was no more than the size of a pebble.

Stephen opened a portal and threw it into the sun before turning back to the bed. He pulled away the towel, waved his hand to magic the boxers onto Tony’s nude body, and collapsed before he could get on the bed.

oOo

Tony woke up to something that tasted bitter and almost rotten in the back of his mouth and groaned. A jack hammer pounded against his forehead to the beat of his heart and he wondered if it would be fine to ask Jarvis to get one of the suits to dig the organ out of his chest.

Thank god there wasn’t any light though; the windows were still dim, but he could see the dulled shine of the sun and rolled over.

“ _Stephen_?”

The man was sleeping, long legs on the floor—one was curled beneath him, the other outstretched like a Greek sculpture—with his torso leaning against the mattress. Arms (fuck they looked stronger than Tony remembered) had been fold into a makeshift pillow beneath Stephen’s head, and black hair fell across white like ink on paper. Eyeliner had been smeared in his sleep, creating small dusty shadows on his skin.

Crawling over his mattress—using slow movements to not disturb the man leaning so peacefully against his bed—Tony took in the thick, pink scars on gently curled fingers, the black shirt that had once looked baggy but was now tighter across stronger shoulders, and the thighs that filled softened lounge pants. Stephen murmured in his sleep, shifted slightly, and light revealed the tiny, pale scar along his cheek.

“And just where have _you_ been?” Tony said. The words were trickled with equal amounts of amusement and worry.

Blue eyes fluttered and opened. They were unfocused, glazed like the ocean after a storm, and turned to the now empty bed.

Panic erupted across Stephen’s face and he shot up, spun around, and froze when he saw Tony. Ribs froze, eyes widened, and muscles tensed like a windup toy.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

Stephen bolted.

He didn’t get very far with Tony standing between him and the doorway but catching those too-long limbs and wrestling Stephen back to the bed was a _task_. Granted, the taller man didn’t really fight all too hard and was careful of the Arc Reactor in a very sore chest, so it didn’t take all that long to pin a pale body down to the mattress. His legs were still hanging over, toes on the floor, but Tony straddled skinny hips and cupped sharp cheekbones and just _breathed_ in the citrus and woody musk of Doctor Stephen Strange.

“I missed you,” he started out and felt the jaw beneath his hands move with a swallow. “God, did I miss you.”

Stephen’s chest was still rising and falling like a terrified rabbit’s and his palms were braced, ever so gently, against Tony’s shoulders. He wasn’t pushing away, not quite, but his eyes were widening, pupils dilating into tiny black pricks, and each breath came out in a wheezing, choked gasp.

“Oh, _shit_. Hey, hey!” Tony got off the lap and guided a shaking body further onto the bed so it could sit up on the mattress. “Breathe, _breathe_ , baby; it’s okay, you’re okay—”

Trembling fingers wrapped around a bicep and Stephen buried his face into Tony’s neck. Arms circled heaving ribs, rubbed soothing circled over a curved spine, and tried to guide each desperate, crowded breath. Stephen pressed his lips against skin, trying to take in as much carbon dioxide as possible to calm his fluttering, panicking heart that rattled the cage it was trapped in.

“That’s it, Stephen,” Tony murmured, making sure his own breaths were as deep as the Arc Reactor allowed (and there was no pain so he breathed in deeper and decided to think about that later). “That’s it, I got you.” Nails dug into his skin—not as tightly as he had feared, not even breaking the surface in their weak grip—and he pressed gentle kisses to the side of Stephen’s head.

Something wet and hot dripped down his chest and Tony leaned back just enough to the small trail of tears that arched over Stephen’s cheek. He didn’t hold any tighter—didn’t dare to—but he pressed his nose into black hair and murmured nothing and everything.

The harsh, wheezing breaths calmed until they were nothing more than slight, sobbing hiccups.

“You okay?” Tony spoke the words against skin. Fingers brushed over his shoulders and squeezed gently before letting go.

Stephen wiggled back and was let go. He didn’t stray very far—just enough that he could reach up and wipe at his face.

It gave Tony the time to look over him; the new scars along his forehead and cheek, the subtle shift of muscle in forearms, the calluses on the soles of his feet. There was something else there too, burning in the way Stephen wouldn’t meet his eyes and the quiet, tiny flinches when Tony reached to touch.

So he didn’t reach and just laid the back of his hands on the mattress, open and a choice.

Stephen took them with zero hesitation and curled his pale fingers around dark wrists. Thumbs rubbed onto the back of scarred hands, feeling the rods and bones beneath thin skin.

Tony let them sit like that, the sun rising over LA but they were shadowed away from the world behind the windows of his bedroom. The dark was always the perfect place to share stories and he ignored the faint pounding in his head to give the shy, gentle soul across from him a smile.

“Talk to me?”

Heartbreaking devastation bloomed across Stephen’s features.

oOo

It took a while—about ten minutes to upload every ASL translation databases to Jarvis—but Stephen told Tony about Kamar-Taj, about the car accident, about Dormammu. The windows stayed dim, the light of the world kept at bay, and in the shadows trembling fingers finally, finally, _finally_ spoke of the deepest secret of all.

He winced at every word spoken, hands shaking so hard it looked as if he might injure himself just from their harsh movements.

“Jarvis,” Tony said softly to the AI, “translate to text, please.”

The AI obeyed and a screen appeared between them. Stephen didn’t watch the words scroll into being and he couldn’t watch Tony’s face, but the signs came fast and they jerked but they were _said_. Glistening silver-blue eyes stared at the blurred wall and didn’t dare blink less the tears be set loose.

They escaped anyway

 _I’m sorry._ Stephen clenched his hand into a fist. His nails dug into his palm and the knuckles were bleached white. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

“Stephen,” Tony said in an arrested voice. “ _Stephen_. Will you look at me?”

He sobbed and curled his fingers into his shirt and somewhere in the depths of his marrow he found the courage to turn to the man sitting on the bed across from him.

Tony was still—far more still than Stephen had ever seen him—tears streaming silently down his cheeks, brown eyes so soft and soulful but so very, very _sad_. “Can I hug you?”

Stephen tensed, his muscles burning with the urge to run and hide and never look back. They burned and burned and _burned—_

A soft voice rose up through a memory that forgot nothing.

_“What would happen if you let go?”_

So he did.

But there’s a phenomenon in the universe; a strange, glorious thing that happens on the edge of infinity.

For a star to be born, a nebula must collapse.

So Stephen Strange collapsed and was caught by Tony Stark.

Somewhere, deep inside his soul, something clicked into place.

 

 

* * *

 

Part Three

true bravery is not in achillies or hercules or great gods and monsters

sometimes it is simple

sometimes it is those people who

despite being hurt

choose love

over and over and over again

 

Tony could hear the cleaning crew someone—probably Pepper—had hired moving about his house and felt fingers move over his chest. He had forgotten what it was like to breathe without nauseating agony, had forgotten what it was like to simply just _exist_ without thinking of the poison in his body. A clock ticked along the base of the window, clicking over to noon as an update about the tide came across the glass. It wasn’t a too hot day—just in the 70’s with a chance of rain later.

Warm breath sighed across Tony’s collarbone and he smiled at the ceiling.

Stephen was curled against his side, napping like some long warm cat; fingers sprawled just beside the Arc Reactor, legs entwined, cheek on a shoulder. He had dozed off at some point with a hand rubbing his back, exhausted from tears and draining a wound that had clearly been festering for too long. Sleepy hums and mumbles with no words had Tony wanting to run and laugh and wake the man beside him with kisses.

“You’re incredible,” he said to black hair, keeping his voice soft even though the vibrations rumbled through his chest. “You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”

Fingers flexed against his skin and Stephen grumbled something, sniffled, and wiggled closer.

Sunshine bright giddiness bloomed in Tony’s chest for Stephen Strange; a man with a soul too deep for those afraid of the ocean. He was a riptide and Tony was already drowning.

But what a good kind of drowning it was.

A slow shift drew a fluttered from closed eyes and lungs stopped as they opened.

“Hey,” Tony said.

The mattress rocked ever so slightly as Stephen turned further in, rested his chin on a pectoral, and smiled. His hair stuck up in spiked curled on the side, silver-blue eyes still droopy from sleep, and had a pleasant flush to his cheeks.

Tony pouted and flopped back on his pillow. “You can’t look at me like that,” he groaned. “It’s too early.” A chuckled rumbled through the chest above him and he felt it in his lungs.

Stephen shifted, leaning up to brush his lips across Tony’s scruffy jaw, before he got out of bed. The windows released the light and he stretched under the sun with a pleased little hum, shirt riding an inch up his stomach, feet rising to his toes.

He glanced back at Tony and admired the way the light fell across the thick, mechanic muscles in his arms, the way blood red and gold brought out the paint strokes of tanned skin, and how his brown eyes were the same shade of sweaters at the edge of autumn. Though smaller and bulkier than his own lanky, long body, the bronze flesh was presented like a rediscovered Renaissance painting. Stephen climbed over the mattress, ran his hand through already puffed locks, and drew their mouths together.

It was soft and slow and _rank._

Whiskey did not sit well on the tongue overnight.

Tony laughed as Stephen pulled away, nose wrinkled in disgust at the taste. “Good morning to you too,” he said.

Rolling his eyes, Stephen lifted his hands, paused, and looked up at the ceiling. A screen flickered to life before him and the sheets shifted.

“I _will_ learn,” Tony said as he sat up, his gaze hard and deep with promise.

It felt like warm fudge down Stephen’s back. He swallowed. _Shower?_

Dark eyes became half lidded and a slow, hungry smirk shadowed Tony’s features. “Is that an invitation?”

God, did he want to say yes.

Stephen bit his bottom lip, dragged it between his teeth. His heart shuddered in his chest, reminding him to breathe. Fingers brushed his wrist, moved up his arm, cupped his cheek. Leaning into the touch, he met Tony’s duvet soft stare and could have purred at the way fingers played across his skin.

“Not yet,” was the easy going answer, “we’ll give it time.”

Stephen kissed Tony’s palm and slid off the bed. He paused when reaching for the shirt and, with a smirk over his shoulder, pulled it over his head.

“Ugh,” Tony’s groan filled the bedroom and the mattress thumped as he fell back. “Baby’s got _back_.”

The laugh bubbled out of Stephen and it was bright and tasted like sunshine. He walked into the bathroom, hand hovering over the button that would slide the door shut, and stopped. It was small and white, easily dwarfed by his index finger.

Tony watched him from the bed and pride lifted in his chest when the hand pulled away.

He didn’t know if he deserved the trust Stephen had in him, but God would he do his best to earn it. Rising from his bed, Tony glanced over the glimmering water of the ocean and stretched out the tightened muscles in his shoulders. “I’m going to go get breakfast, alright?”

 _Okay_ , wrote itself on the glass, the letters hovering over L.A.

“Donuts sound good?”

 _Yes_.

Tony snapped the band on his boxers, turned from his window, and kept his gaze carefully away from the entrance of the bathroom where the water pounded against the tiles. Hands dug around for a pair of jeans and a shirt, slipped them on, and ran his hands a couple of times through his hair. Pausing by the mirror in the walk-in closet, he checked the unmarred skin on his chest and ran his finger over the smooth, de-bruised, un-swollen skin. “Be back in a few!”

 _Be good_ , appeared.

He was about to leave when a second beep caught his attention. Stealing all the oxygen from his lungs, the cursor continued.

_I missed you._

“I,” Tony cleared his throat. “I missed you, too.”

oOo

The closest donut bakery was about a ten minute drive obeying the speed limit. Tony got there in five.

“Look,” he said into his phone, pushing his way through the door with his shoulder, “fine, just—if it’s an executive order just stop by and take it, Rhodey.”

The place was empty, thankfully, except for the miniscule staff who were staring with wide eyes. Tony glanced around just to make sure there wasn’t some nude wrestling even or something, chalked it up to just the usual effect of him just being him, and grinned at the cashier.

“Hi,” Tony said, handing over his credit card, “can I get two of all your filled donuts and a half dozen glazed?”

“Um,” she took it and glanced over her shoulder at a teenager already rushing to complete the order. “It’ll be about ten minutes.”

Tony waved his hand. “That’s fine, thanks.” He took his card back and settled into one of the booths.

_“You done?”_

“Yeah,” he tapped his fingers on the table. “Just... stop by in about thirty minutes. I’ll be back home, we can pretend you took it forcibly—whatever.”

There was a sigh. _“You don’t have to make it so hard, you know.”_

“The day I _willingly_ let Stern have anything is the day—”

Someone sat across from him. A familiar eye patch with a long, leather coat.

Tony looked over Nick Fury and scowled. “—I’m gonna have to call you back.”

 _“Fine,_ ” Rhodey sighed. _“I’ll pick up the suit in an hour_. _”_

“Counting on it, hot stuff,” Tony said, his eyes never leaving the single one of Fury’s as he hung up. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

Fury leaned back in the booth. “Funny,” he said, “you don’t look as hungover as I thought you’d be.”

“I had a good morning,” Tony glanced over at the counter and saw his box already mostly full. He sniffed, wondered if he should just go hide out in the bathroom until the other man left before deciding that it wasn’t worth it. “You gonna tell me what you want or are you going to make me guess? I charge by the minute.”

 “A ‘good morning’?” Fury’s dark eye widened. “ _Really_?”

 _And here we go_. Tony rolled his eyes and knocked his sunglasses down from his forehead so they sat on his nose. This conversation was clearly not going anywhere anytime soon and there was someone waiting at home for him. “Am I not allowed to have good mornings? My life not fitting into the cesspool you thought it was gonna be?”

A dark hum rose through Fury’s throat. “I am a little surprised—you look quite springy for a man who’s dying.”

“I saw a specialist.” A wizard doctor. Doctor wizard. Whatever the hell Stephen was. “Got help. Less death-y now.”

“Is it permanent?”

Tony opened his mouth and paused. He didn’t know. Huh. The reactor was still there, would still be a threat every second of his life unless he found some way to fix it or...

 _Or_ have someone pull the shrapnel out.

“Don’t know yet,” Tony said absently. “I’ll get back to you.”

“So you _didn’t_ fix the palladium issue.”

There was something in Fury’s voice—an odd curiosity that got Tony narrowing his eyes and focusing on the Director of SHIELD. Spy Boss, as it were. He frowned. “What’s that tone for? I tried every known element. Every permutation of them. There’s nothing left.”

“That so?” Fury said with that damn Venus flytrap smile.

 _God_ , Tony hated when he was the fly.

Standing up, he went to the counter to grab his box.

oOo

“Special delivery!” Tony called as he bounded up the stairs from the garage, box in hand. He slammed to a stop in the living room and stared at the man floating about a foot off the ground in the middle.

Stephen had managed to find the longest tank top in the mansion and it hung over his thighs to the top of his knees with boned painted across the black fabric like a half-done x-ray. Red plaid wrapped over thighs and calves, ending at ankles skinny enough to look like they were only bases for someone to screw bare feet into.

Black hair, still damp from the shower, was curled gently over Stephen’s features even as his head fell forward and his hands were lifted.

Gold circles clicked like a hand on a clock around his wrists. _Tick tock tick tock_.

Various bits of the Iron Man suit flew up from the floor, slowly rebuilding. Tony placed the donuts on the coffee table. There was something about hearing that his boyfriend (friend? Friend with benefits? Ex even though they never really broke up and he’d take him back in a heartbeat?) had gone to the Nepal Hogwarts, but another thing to _see_ it.

The suit formed legs to chest to arms until the helmet snapped on and Stephen opened his eyes. His legs unwound, straightening as he was lowered to the ground and the gold sparks dropped, vanishing before they hit the ground.

“That was—” Tony looked between the suit and the man who had repaired it. “ _Wow_ ,” he finished, reached forward, and slid his fingers into plaid pockets. Gentle tugs drew Stephen closer and he craned his neck back, pressed them chest to chest, and grinned.

Arms wrapped around his shoulders and he wanted to run his fingers along the moonlight skin, drink it in, and find every newly defined muscle, every scar, every freckle.

“Kiss?” Tony puckered his lips.

Stephen laughed and pulled back far enough so he could cup cheeks and lean down.

 _Fuck_ yes.

A moan rose through his chest from the depths of his soul and it was like two ancient things rediscovering each other after so long. Perhaps that was so. Perhaps their bodies had been made from dust from the same star that had been looking for parts of itself across the universe. Tony ran his fingers up under the loose, black fabric and dragged sky and starlight across warm skin.

He wanted to tug the other man, wanted to lay him across the floor, wanted to figure out what type of language spilled between them that could be so soft even as it carved its way into his chest. Stephen pulled his mouth away, dragging a wanting little gasp from Tony’s mouth before those lips returned, kissing his cheeks and nose and forehead.

“Hey! Wha— _Stephen!_ ” Long, dangerous fingers tickled up his sides—not too much, just enough to make him squirm—and Tony caught them at the wrist. “No tickles,” he told the taller man.

Stephen pouted.

The effect was promptly destroyed by the low grumble in his stomach.

Tony felt it in his fingers and narrowed his eyes. “When was the last time you ate?”

Stephen tilted his head to the side, his dark hair falling gently across his face, and frowned.

“If you have to think about it,” Tony said, tugging him towards the coffee table and the donuts, “then it’s been too long.”

Folding his legs beneath him, Stephen slowly ate one of the cinnamon donuts filled with apple cream and hummed around the taste. He had halfway curled into the couch like some long cat, eyes focused on the ocean, light playing across his hair. Time dragged between them and the euphoria of the day lifted as they ate and was replaced by duty.

Tony watched him over his own glazed breakfast and sighed, leaning into the cushions. “Can you stay here?” He said, “Forever?”

The desire for it bloomed across Stephen’s pale, long features, but it was tainted by duty and regret. He had already explained his duties as the Master of New York, about the fact he would have to return at some point to get his second task.

It was important, Tony knew. Very, _very_ important.  “Well,” he sighed, “can I give you a phone?”

Stephen sucked cinnamon off his fingers and nodded.

oOo

Rhodey drove up as Stephen was leaving and Tony could do nothing but stare as a portal was opened in his living room to a townhouse in Manhattan.

“That would be _so_ useful,” he grumbled before turning to greet the man coming in from the front.

oOo

Sunlight drifted through the window above the foyer, highlighting tailings of dust in the air. It played across dark wood, turning furnishings to gold. Antique pottery lined the walls—some of it cursed, some blessed, and others nothing but old.

Stephen spun around on his heel and breathed in brick, leather, and ancient paper.

“There you are,” Mordo said from the banister. He was in a sleeveless brown top sewn together by strips of leather. “How was California?”

Stephen’s smile was blinding and his hands were a blur while he bounded up the stairs.

oOo

Watching Rhodey being swallowed into the silver armour left something proud but fiercely bitter in Tony’s stomach.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” His best friend’s voice was distorted through the speaker and there was something unnerving about the emotionless facemask. “Because I could tell them—”

“No,” Tony waved a hand, “no, you were always meant to have that one anyway.”

 _“Sir, you have a visitor at the front entrance,”_ Jarvis spoke up.

Tony turned to one of the screens and groaned. “Ugh, _why_? Okay.” He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Fine, whatever. Tell Nick No-Hurry that I’ll be up in a second.”

As if he had heard him, the Director of SHIELD looked up at the camera and scowled.

“You good?” Tony turned to Rhodey. “Nothing pinching in inappropriate places?”

“No. Look, Tony—”

The insistent ring of the doorbell echoed through the garage. “Hey, so, I gotta—”

“Did you tell him?”

Tony froze and breathed in. His hand immediately moved to the Arc Reactor out of instinct before he pulled his hand away. “I didn’t have to,” he admitted. “He already knew.”

Rhodey’s sigh echoed from the static filled speakers. “And?”

“’And’, what?”

He could _feel_ Rhodey rolling his eyes.

“What did he say?”

Tony played with some of the tools on a table and winced as the doorbell went off again. “He helped,” he admitted, “I—I think he did more than that, actually. Gave me time.”

“But couldn’t fix it.”

Shaking his head, Tony pressed his hand against the light of the Arc Reactor. The palladium would come back. Not that day, and maybe not the next. But it would. Whatever Stephen had done had been a reset and offered him a second chance.

“No,” Tony said, “but he gave me enough time to figure it out.”

The doorbell rang again, buzzing for a full half minute before stopping. Tony kept his back to Rhodey and didn’t watch as the silver suit lifted up. He took the stairs to greet Fury, stealing another donut out of the box and just looked through the glass doors as he ate it.

He’ll let the director in.

Eventually.

oOo

Changing from the tank top and trousers to his robes, Stephen chuckled softly as the Cloak curled around his shoulders.

“You have a glow,” Wong said, trying to look irritated but the corners of his eyes were softened. “It was the right choice for you to go.”

 _It was_ , Stephen signed, hands loose and cheeks warm. _It was really good._

“I’m glad,” the shorter man nodded once and led the way through the portal to Kamar-Taj.

The Masters for the other sanctums waited for them as well as those in the council. Stephen felt the brightness of his morning drop away until his features were expressionless.

“Good,” said Rama, “you’re all here.”

Magic spilled across the courtyard and the brown stone and dark wood fell away to a place of nothingness.

“Recently we have become aware of something moving between the edges of the realms,” the darkness flickered to a place with no gravity, no end; just massive mirror-like doors that led to places and people and nothing. “At first we thought it was just another lost traveller, but this morning one of the young apprentices did not return from their rounds.”

They floated as a group to an outcropping. Some people flinched away, others gagged. Stephen wrinkled his nose at the overwhelming smell of copper and decay. The man—the apprentice—lay in his own blood, jaw torn from his face, ribs wrenched from his torso. Something had eaten the organs and left the rest of the body.

Frowning, Stephen glanced at the other outcroppings and doors, but there was no movement except the slow spinning of the universe.

“We need to find this creature,” Master Rama said, dragging Stephen attention back to the conversation. “Each Master will be given a section to search and no Apprentice will be allowed to enter the walkway between realms alone.”

Stephen looked over the long gashes carved deep into flesh and shuddered.

oOo

Fury left behind crates labelled as ‘property of Howard Stark’, Agent Coulson, and a house arrest that Tony was pretty sure wasn’t exactly on the ‘legal’ side.

Sitting in the middle of the entertainment room, his phone sitting on his forehead with a blinking ‘ _no signal_ ’ alert, Tony wanted to push every single thing that had been delivered over the side of the cliff into the ocean, wanted to watch them burn, wanted to pick up a sledge hammer and bring it down on all the contents one at a time.

He did none of it and just dug through materials and notes and blueprints for the original Arc Reactor while his father spoke on the projection screen. Most of it was stuff he already knew, the rest was just junk.

Shitty, old _junk_.

 _“Tony,”_ a voice from the past spoke up and attention wavered from the half filled journal to the flickering light of the movie. _“You’re too young to understand this right now,”_ Howard Stark said, looking directly into the camera. His beady eyes were shadowed but the heavy, overhead lights. _“So I thought I would put it on film for you.”_

Something inside Tony clenched and he _hated_ himself for it, but he met his father’s gaze as if he was there in the room and somewhere, deep inside, that boy that had always been so desperate for acknowledgement awoke.

 _“I built this for you,”_ the memory of Howard continued, _“And someday you’ll realise that it represents a whole lot more than just people’s inventions.”_

The film jumped but Tony didn’t notice, his eyes glued to the light.

Howard smiled. _“It represents my life’s work,”_ he waved his hand over the model of the Stark Expo. _“This is the key to the future.”_ The pavilions flashed and then settled on the unfinished model of the Arc Reactor.

Tony sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing.

 _“I’m limited by the technology of my time,”_ Howard said with a small, sly smile. _“But one day you’ll figure this out, and when you do?”_ There was no pride there. Not in the way that people would have expected there to be, but there was something quiet, something like _knowing_. _“You will change the world.”_

The camera zoomed in and Tony didn’t know if he was breathing anymore.

 _“What is and always will be my greatest creation,”_ the phantom said, _“is you.”_

oOo

_Do you know if Pepper like strawberries?_

Stephen stared down at the phone Tony had handed over before he had left Malibu that afternoon, blinked twice, sighed—half in fondness, half in amusement—and rolled his eyes. The portal to the nexus of realities waited in the foyer, Wong and Mordo standing in front and bickering softly about whether or not using scrying to watch Broadway performances was ‘illegal’.

 _Pepper is allergic to strawberries,_ he texted. _Get her some orchids._

The reply was almost instantaneous.

_How do you know that????_

Stephen smile to himself and felt the Cloak of Levitation settle around his shoulders. _Have to go_ , he sent instead, _get her the orchids!_

“—how could they be different?” Mordo had his arms crossed over his chest. “You didn’t pay to go see it; therefore it’s illegal.”

Wong rolled his eyes. “As sorcerers, we are supposed to give up material—”

“Oh, _really?_ That’s the argument you’re going to use?”

Stephen descended the stairs and slipped between the two, heading towards the portal. They followed, tossing gentle jabs at each other before all three of them were in the swilling realm of rainbow colours and mirror doors. The floating chunks of devoured worlds drifted lazily by, some of them dotted with strange, green glowing spots.

This nexus was just one of billions, but it was close to theirs so each sorcerer spread out to work their way inwards. Stephen left the two men to decide their own directions and set off, one of the maps drawn by the Masters at Kamar-Taj in his hands.

oOo

Tony walked into Stark Industries with a bouquet of orchids, a bounce in his step, and a healthy dose of paranoia. It hadn’t been too hard to realize that SHIELD had put an agent somewhere in his company and seeing that there was a new red-haired employee that had been an itch along his back, he avoided going through the main security and just walked up to Pepper’s new office.

CEO suited her and he hadn’t made it any easier.

“Hey,” he knocked on the door, “you busy?”

She looked up from her papers, eyes widening. “Tony!” The pen was placed to the side. “No, no, please; come in. I’m just finishing up.”

Some of the old expo stuff sat in the corner, covered by a sheet and looking ready to be carted away at any moment. Tony glanced over at it before making his way to the chairs in front of his old desk. “Here,” he said, offering her the flowers.

Pepper blinked but took them, a small smile growing on her face. “What are these for?”

He sat in the chair, drummed his fingers on the armrests, and sighed. “An apology, mostly; I was a...” he trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Right old bastard?” Pepper offered, her eyes glinting as she tried to hide her smile behind the bouquet.

“I was gonna say ‘cock’ believe it or not, but that works too.”

She laughed, breathed in the flowers one more time and then set them off to the side. “How’re you? How’s Stephen?” Her eyes had hardened just slightly, daring him to try and dodge the questions—even those asked just beneath the surface.

_How’s your chest?_

_How are you dealing with him being back?_

Tony breathed in. “He—he helped. He helped a _lot_ , Pepper. I—” Tony swallowed and she played with a pen, rolling t over the wood so they could focus on it together instead of on each other. “I think he gave me a second chance.”

“But,” she said softly, “you’re still...?”

“He _helped_ ,” Tony said, “but I still have to figure out a way around the palladium otherwise it’s all just a temporary fix.”

The phone rang. Pepper silenced it. “And how’s _he_ doing?”

He felt her gaze on his face, the sharpness of it. It could peel all parts of his disguise away to leave nothing but the truth. Tony wondered, briefly, what they would have been like together. “He’s—” the words faltered.

Stephen had been steady and kind and open, but he had always been like that. It was the silence that worried him, the heartbreaking quiet sobs and his desperately clinging hands as if Tony would have pushed him away.

“He needs time,” Tony admitted, “time and patience.”

Pepper nodded once. “That’s something we can give him.”

oOo

The glowing circles of green in faded grey rock were holes, Stephen realized once he was close enough to actually take a closer look.

He floated around the bit of debris—about fifteen feet in diameter at its smallest, twenty at its largest, and being no more than ten feet deep—riddled with the strange tunnels. Stephen circled it, looked over the smoothed down stone, ran his hands across the surface and proved to himself, without a shadow of a doubt, that, besides the tunnels riddling the top of the bit of rock, the rest was untouched.

Summoning a pair of mandalas, Stephen sliced the rock like he would have cut the worm-y bits off an apple and worked his way upward. Once there was nothing except for a flat, three foot thick platform did he stop.

The Cloak lowered him next to one of the tunnels.

It was illuminated from the inside by soft, green light that came from nothing and went through stone, deeper and deeper until it curved after about twenty feet and continued where he couldn’t see.

Yet it was still in the stone, still carved from the bit of debris. It shouldn’t exist.

But it _did_.

And there were hundreds; some had faded to faint emerald, others had caved in, but even more were glowing with strange, pulsing light. Stephen followed the bits of old worlds and the tunnels that were embedded deep into their surface. He floated from debris to debris and found more peppering the bridge between realities. They got brighter and bigger the further he went until mint turned to a bright, toxic green that pulsed in its freshness.

Landing on one of the bigger chunks of broken world, Stephen looked down into a tunnel that could easily fit a man twice his own size and froze at a sound.

It was click-y, guttural, deep in a way that dolphins and other animals on earth were not. The sound of it felt like a lawn mower that had run out of gas, sputtering with each pull, and hungry enough that each and every grind vibrated through his bones. There was a sleepy candour to it; a deep sigh tone that pulsed through the sharp snaps.

Despite there being no end to the reality nexus, the noise echoed, flowing and bouncing as if it was a wave being splashed across rocks.

Stephen turned away from the tunnel but there was nothing except the pulsing green light and empty infinity.

Another sound lifted through the nexus only this one had _purpose_ ; longer, deeper, without the high to low notes and less of a snarl. Stephen stood still as it moved through the stone beneath his feet and fought the urge to stop breathing when the noise rumbled into his muscles and claimed them.

His Cloak flicked in something close to agitation and started to pull his feet off the stone..

A howling screech tore through the nexus, echoing in its sharpness and coming from everywhere all at once.

Stephen was launched upwards, rock exploding beneath his feet and throwing him into the swirling colours of the void.

Pincer teeth snapped against his boot, catching on leather.

The Cloak wrenched Stephen away and he choked on the sound in his throat as something black and massive and _green_ flashed across the grey before it was burrowing back into rock.

oOo

A new element was discovered (“ _Re_ discovered”) in the model of the Stark expo and Tony took a sledge hammer to his mansion, breaking down the walls, the floor, and filling them with circular tubing.

Coulson came and went and he didn’t really want to check to see if SHIELD’s not-so-legal house arrest was lifted.

In all honesty, he wasn’t expecting the creation to be that easy, so when he held the brand new element in a pair of tongs, it felt a little anticlimactic.

(Tony still couldn’t stop himself from taking pictures and sending them to Pepper.)

oOo

Floating in the middle of nothing, Stephen waved his hand and turned the floating chunks of rocks to dust. There was a hole in the bit of broken world, not unlike the tunnels, carved and pulsing with the too-bright green light. Stephen didn’t land by it, didn’t dare approach. The leather of his shoe was torn and he could see the flash of white skin.

His heart clambered wildly in his chest, blood roared in his ears, and blood tingled at the very tips of his fingers, but he could hear that clicking rising and falling.

Around him, the sound grew louder.

The beast was creating its own dimensions, creating holes in the nexus of realities that it used to travel from one point to the other. _Any_ of the tunnels could be connected; any of them could lead to some far off place. It could travel a mile in the time it took Stephen to sneeze.

A growl rumbled through the clicking—like a cross between an orca, a bear, and some poor ass tree that had been struck by lightning but was involved anyway. The echo rose, bouncing not unlike a ball on the streets of San Francisco, and faded. It left just the occasional whip of the Cloak and harsh, human breathing.

Rocks floated by, creating shadows of motion in the corners of Stephen’s eyes.

Movement—

Stephen spun, raising golden SHIELDs.

Protruding, pale bone covered the top of the head; two curved spikes on each side replacing any eyes that would have existed with one more for the nose and a last, continuous shark fin-curve to replace a forehead. More of the spikes continued down flesh the shade of evergreens in the winter, rising along the creature’s back like a mimicry of the Grand Tetons—only sharper and flickering with bolts of lime coloured lightning just underneath the thin exoskeleton.

The two foremost legs were armoured like the head with thick, plate-like bone from elbow to finger. It was tipped with six, black claws that pierced stone like steak knives to microwaved butter. Clicks rose and fell, twisting into a tango with mottled growls.

Stephen knew, in some deep part of his being, that it was watching him. No eyes, no ears, but the head moved with every one of his motions, following his body through the empty space of the nexus. Huffing chuffs drifted through the empty space before they turned into low growls and faster, threatening clicks.

The creature snarled when he didn’t move away and Stephen wanted to—he wanted to leave it in peace to build its tunnels and go about eating whatever it is it ate, but he remembered the apprentice with his ripped open chest and sighed. There was no way the Masters would approve of him just leaving the beast to do as it would. Not here, at least. Maybe there was a possibility he could relocate it to the quieter part of the nexus.

Somewhere anyone rarely visited.

Stephen focused on where the creature waited.

It was gone.

Just the glowing, empty tunnel and silence remained.

Silence except for the _thump, thump, thump_ of a heart that wanted nothing to do with any of this.

Fingers fumbled through the summoning of a sword and Stephen spun, watching the floating pieces of worlds. They floated gently past, slow in their mass, terrifying in their stillness.

A snarl—deep from the belly of the beast—echoed through the nexus. The Cloak twisted Stephen around just in time for claws to catch on his shoulders and a massive mouth—filled with long rows of grinding, shark teeth—opened over his face. His arm caught just underneath the neck, stopping the sharpened bone from catching on his flesh. Saliva splattered across his face as the beast inhaled and _roared_.

Together they spun, falling through infinity.

Stephen screamed his own fury back; blazing fire of his sword cutting into flesh as claws pierced human muscle. Blood welled in his robes, dripping down his skin and his left side went numb under the sudden, blazing agony. The creature shrieked at the bite of magic into its skin and slammed one of its clawed limbs across the left curve of Stephen’s face.

Magic only chewed deeper and thick, oily purple blood splattered across blue robes and pale skin, mixing with the sharp tang of crimson.

They hit stone, rolled. Stephen _pushed_ —

He screamed in rage and fear and torture when teeth sunk into his shoulder and sharpened, scorpion-like legs fluttered along his thighs. A tail thrashed once, _twice_ —

The creature died with a last, guttural whine.

Stephen panted, lying underneath its bulky, muscled weight before he groaned, and rolled away. The sword vanished into everything and blood soaked fingers fumbled for his sling ring.

oOo

The faint, blue glow of the Arc Reactor filled the dim garage and Tony watched the computer run through test after test. Something crackled and he looked up, grinning at the sight of orange forming in the air, spinning and spinning until a circle widened. He turned back to the monitors and watched the numbers continue to flow past.

“You owe Pepper a coffee date,” Tony said, leaning back in the chair. There was no reply. “Stephen?” He glanced over.

Blood dripped over pale skin from a series of gashes that from the very edge of black hair, over a forehead, broken by the ridge of an eyebrow, and then finished on a cheek. Dark, purple liquid was splattered across torn robes and flesh, mixing with deep crimson.

Opening his mouth, Stephen tried to take a step forward and stumbled into one of the work stations. Tools clattered to the floor, covering the sound of the stood as it was knocked away from Tony’s mad scramble to his feet.

“Stephen!”

oOo

_Four long cuts over a fluttering left eye were pressed with a gauze pad and wrapped with white bandages, thick gashes along shoulders covered and Tony wondered if they would need to be sewn shut before realizing he didn’t have the expertise to decide that._

_The Cloak batted at his hands before giving up, pulling away to float off to the side and staying there, unmoving as if it had fallen asleep._

_He figured trying to stop the bleeding would be better than causing more, anyway, and cut off the blue robes and trousers with one of the sharpened box-cutter knives There were bruises across pale skin, dotting in black and blue and purple to create a cacophony of colour with oozing crimson._

_Six deep punctures on each thigh were carefully covered and all Tony could do was wait and wait and wonder._

 

* * *

 

Part Four

‘hephaestus’, i begged, ‘will you build me a heart of star-core?’

‘i do not have to,’ he replied, ‘because their atoms already fill your soul’

 

Stephen woke to gentle fingers carding through his hair and a low, steady throb that filled his body. He groaned and turned into the hand. Only one of his eyes managed to open and he caught sight of grey walls and something glowing sharp, pale blue. His back was cold—not chilled to the point of shivering, but cold in the way that the rest of his body was hot and it was a small relief—and he was aware of his lack of clothing in the same way he was aware that his eyes were blue.

“Hey,” Tony’s voice was soft and he leaned over Stephen, blocking out most of the dim lighting. Brown eyes glimmered, damp with unshed tears. “There you are.”

The entirety of Stephen’s left side flared with sparkling crackles across his nerves but he gritted his teeth and forced his body up with his right arm instead. Something tightened across his skin, squeezing along his thighs and chest. Blood had dried along his skin, sticking to his flesh and clumping along his hair. Something itched and scratched against the base of his neck and Stephen forced himself not to look and just focused on sitting up.

“No, no, hey—” fingers danced across his arms, gentle in their touch as if not quite sure where they could hold. “Don’t—!”

Stephen swung his legs over the side of the work table and reached forward, caught his fingers in Tony’s cotton robe, and pulled the other man close enough so he could trap hips between his legs. Beige bandages were wrapped from knee to upper thigh, stopping just under the hem of his boxers, and were dotted with crimson Dalmatian spots.

(And, he realized with dazed shock, that his other eye was open—it just couldn’t see anything because it was covered in white dressings.)

Unable to lift his arms due to the tightened gauze around each shoulder, Stephen leaned forward, pressed his forehead into Tony’s neck, and sighed. Arms wrapped slowly around his ribs and there was a soft, hitching breath.

“God,” Tony murmured and tightened his hold. “ _Fuck,_ Stephen—I—you need to go to the _hospital_ —”

 _No_ , Stephen held on and just breathed in the metal, fire, and coconut. He could go into a healing trance later; right now he just wanted—he wanted—

He wanted Tony.

He just wanted _Tony_.

“Shhh,” breath danced across flushed, sweat-slicked pale skin and lips brushed over the hair that wasn’t swamped in bandages. “Hey, I’m here. I got you.”

Stephen blinked and registered that he was making soft little sounds in the back of his throat. He swallowed them down and rubbed the palm of his hand up and down the cotton sleeve of the robe until it raised enough that he could touch skin.

_“The sling ring will take you to where you most desire.”_

Closing his eyes, Stephen leaned into Tony and sighed.

oOo

Hooking his hands under Stephen’s thighs (gently, gently, _gently_ ) and making sure pale arms were wrapped around his neck, Tony lifted the other man off the workshop and brought him over to the couch. Limbs spilled across the cushions, overflowing onto the armrests. By the time Tony had come back down to the garage after pilfering the upstairs closet for blankets and a pillow, Stephen had already passed back out again.

Only this time he was floating a few inches above fabric and there was a strange, lilac glow pulsing from his skin.

Tony left him be and sat back down at his monitors. Occasionally he looked from the numbers to Stephen. Grimy, clumped black hair fluttered in an unnatural wind and soft reflections, like light on the bottom of a swimming pool, moved up and down flushed skin like some sort of scanner.

Fuck magic was _fascinating_ but it could go fucking rot in hell if the wounds across Stephen’s body were any indication.

(And that’s not even counting the other pale scars that dotted the otherwise smooth skin. Scars that hadn’t been there when Tony had last seen the other man’s bared body.)

Head rolling to the side, Stephen sighed. Tony winced at the bandages wrapped around half his face. There was blood along sections, but the eye itself hadn’t seemed to be damaged. Luck, maybe, or the creature that had attacked Stephen in the first place had just missed.

 _“Incoming call with a blocked number sir.”_ Jarvis spoke up.

Tony rubbed his hand across his face. “My phone privilege is reinstated,” he murmured, glancing one more time over at Stephen. “Lovely,” One finger pressed the button to answer and elbows rested on the desk. “Coulson. How’s the Land of Enchantment?”

There was a split second pause before a different voice came through the speakers.

A Russian voice.

 _“Hey, Tony,”_ Ivan Vanko said. _“How you doing? I double cycle.”_

The frown came to Tony quickly and easily. “You _what_?”

 _“You told me double cycle’s more power,”_ Ivan’s voice came in loud and clear over the speaker and it felt like there _should_ be more static. _“Good advice.”_

 _Me and my big, stupid mouth._ Tony rubbed his hands over his thighs to soothe out the tingles along his skin. “You sound pretty sprightly for a dead guy.”

Ivan chuckled. _“You too.”_

Tony muted himself, glanced over at Stephen’s floating body, and gritted his teeth. “Trace him.”

 _“Sir.”_ Jarvis agreed and opened the program.

_“Now, the true history of Stark name will be written.”_

“Jarvis,” Tony fought the urge to snarl, “where is he?”

A 3D globe appeared on one of the monitors. _“Accessing the Oracle grid,”_ it zoomed in on the United States. _“Eastern Seaboard.”_

The program worked, numbers flying by faster than Tony could read them.

_“—did to my family over 40 years, I will do to you in 40 minutes.”_

Tony licked his lips, pressed his thumb over the mute button, and watched Oracle enhance, focusing on smaller areas. “Sounds good,” he said absently, “let’s get together and hash it out.”

_“Tri-State area. Manhattan and outlying boroughs.”_

Ivan’s voice dropped the amusement, turning cold. _“I hope you’re ready.”_

Dial tone filled the garage and Tony jerked back, spinning around in his chair.

 _“Call trace incomplete,”_ Jarvis said.

“Fuck,” Tony rubbed a hand down his face and glanced over at the Stark Expo website where there was an announcement for Hammer Tech’s presentation. His eyes turned back to the tracer. “ _Fuck_ ,” he spun around.

Stephen’s weird ass Cloak sitting there, floating inches behind his chair.

“Holy _shit_!” Pressing a palm against his heart, Tony stared at the fluttering fabric.

It gave him a _look_ (despite not having eyes and that was creepy in itself) before turning away, taking place in a silent vigil next to Stephen.

“What the _hell_ ,” Tony wheezed, breathed in what his lungs could handle, and reached for the new Arc Reactor.

_“Sir!”_

He popped out the first with a breathless grunt. “Pepper’s there,” Tony said, “She’s there, Jarvis and I’m—I’m not going to—”

The AI was blessedly silent.

“Assemble the suit,” Tony pressed the Arc Reactor into his chest with a gasp and felt his heart lurch in his chest. “Put it together,” his voice hardened. “ _Now_.”

Stephen was still and silent, floating above the couch. Tony let his robe fall to the ground as he walked forward and pressed a kiss to the bandaged forehead. “I’ll be back,” he swore. “Don’t vanish on me again, alright?”

A soft, sleepy sigh was the response.

oOo

Rhodey’s phone went to voicemail. Pepper picked up on the second ring.

_“Tony?”_

“Hey,” he said, somewhere over Kansas, “I can’t get into a lot of detail—mostly because I don’t really know all of it but, well, you know. There’s not much really to—”

Pepper sighed. _“Tony_. _”_

“Right,” he said, “I just got a call from, um, Ivan Vanko—”

 _“Wait,”_ Pepper said, her voice piercing through the helmet like a single clap in a silent auditorium. _“Ivan Vanko? The man who attacked us in Monaco?”_

Tony couldn’t shrug while he was flying so he made an uncommitted nasally noise instead. “Technically he attacked—not important. Doesn’t matter,” he swerved out of the way of some geese. “Look, I got a call from him and he threatened the Expo.”

She hummed and he could picture her tapping out instructions on her phone despite the fact that their conversation hadn’t finished. _“Did he threaten you? Or was it specifically the expo?”_

“Threatened me,” Tony watched the open plains of the western United States give way to the rivers of the east. “But I traced the phone he called on to New York.”

_“Do you want me to evacuate the Expo?”_

“Can you do it without causing mass panic?”

From her silence, Tony assumed the answer was ‘no’.

oOo

Tony was landing in New York by the time lilac light receded and Stephen drifted slowly to the couch, eyes opening as skin touched leather. Each movement was slow, controlled, and he sat up with a grunt. The Cloak was there, hovering, its crimson fabric dotted with dried splotches of purple.

 _“Good evening, Doctor,”_ Jarvis said. _“Master Stark is currently in New York but I could order you food if you would like.”_

New York? Stephen rubbed his hands down his face and winced at the white bandages. _That won’t be necessary,_ he signed and brushed his finger over the dressing before slowly undoing it.

_“Sir, your injuries—”_

The bloody gauze and bandages were thrown into the nearest biohazard waste basket and Stephen brushed the tips of his fingers over the four, jagged lines on his skin. It wasn’t fully healed and still felt fleshy and sore when he touched the flesh, but they weren’t bleeding and had been closed over by uneven, thick scabs.

He left the bandages on the puncture wounds on his shoulders and thighs—each sudden movement was too painful for them to be anywhere close to healed.  _My clothing?_ Stephen looked up at the cameras.

 _“In the basket, sir,”_ Jarvis said.

Signing his thanks, Stephen grimaced at the sight of his blood soaked clothes. The Cloak settled around his shoulders, wrapping gently around his body, and he patted the velvet and silk. Digging through his trousers, he pulled out the pockets until he found his sling ring.

 _I’ll be right back,_ he told the AI. _I just need some new clothes_.

 _“Very well, Sir,”_ Jarvis said, too kind at that moment to point out that there was clothes upstairs in Tony’s bedroom.

Stephen felt too much of a stranger still to go digging through there on his own. Summoning a portal, he stepped through and found himself in the foyer of the Sanctum.

Where a wide eyed Mordo and Wong waited for him.

While he was in his underwear.

 _Perfect_.

oOo

The Iron Man suit touched down off to the side of the main pavilion, out of sight of the people heading up the stairs to see Justin Hammer’s presentation. Pepper was already there, waiting with Happy and Rushman, briefcase in hand and wearing a black dress that made her bright, orange hair stand out.

“So?” Tony said once the facemask had lifted.

“I notified the authorities,” Pepper said, “but, unfortunately, without knowing where Vanko is, security is working blind.”

Brown eyes narrowed. “How many people are in the park?”

“Less than seven hundred.”

Tony frowned and looked over at the lights of the Expo. “Close down the entrances—let them know to not let people in but to keep the exits open.”

Happy was nodding and turned away to make a few calls.

“Do what you can to shut down the food stands,” Tony continued. “We want to start getting employees and as many people as we can out of here in the next half hour.”

oOo

When Iron Man landed on the stage, the crowd burst into cheers despite the interruption to the original presentation.

Rhodey’s suit pointed it’s gun and Tony blasted up and out of the pavilion, giving the security teams cover to evacuate the people.

oOo

Stephen sat on the sofa, still in just his boxers, as Mordo grumbled and looked over Tony’s work. The television was on, but muted, lighting up the Sanctum’s living room in flashes of colour. One of the faint, amber lamps had been turned on and painted moonlight skin like the beginning of an eclipse.

Keeping still and quiet, Stephen let fingers gently lift up his arms or straighten his legs. Wong stood by, already mixing something together to quicken the healing and ease up most of the pain. He was glaring over the bowls, dark eyes moving over the pale bandages.

Warmth pooled in Stephen’s stomach, but there was a growing itchiness on his skin and he placed his hands on Mordo’s, gently stopping his friend from testing his arm for the fourth time.

 _I’m alright,_ he signed, _I’ve already gone into a healing trance._

“Yeah, well,” Mordo leaned back with a grunt. “It wasn’t long enough by the looks of it.” His eyes flickered up to the four, jagged scabs.

Wong pressed a bowl into trembling hands. “Drink it,” he ordered. “ _All_ of it.”

Giving a small salute, Stephen lifted the bowl up to his lips and took a long sip. His nose wrinkled at the taste but it trickled down his throat like sweet ambrosia.  Something flickered on the television and blue eyes snapped to the movement.

 _Stark Expo_ scrolled on the bottom of the screen. _Attack. Unknown perpetrators._

 _Tony_.

Stephen downed the rest of what was in the bowl, almost choked on a mass of tea leaves that took him by surprise, and was shoved back into the sofa.

“No,” Mordo said, crossing his arms over his chest and used his bulk to stop the other man from getting up. “No. Absolutely _not_. You are going to sit there—”

Flicking his fingers at the remote, Stephen used magic to press the mute button.

“— _reports are coming in about an attack on the Stark Expo—_ ”

There was shaky cam footage of a suit flying through the air, up over the pavilions, followed by a mass of others firing wildly over and into the crowd. Fire licked across one of the pavilions and the footage stopped, going back to News Anchor who only had a second before she cleared the shock on her face.

Mordo turned to the screen then glanced back at Stephen. “He’s there, isn’t he?” His dark gaze was focused, but not sharp; more old leather than the points of pine cones. “Stark.”

Stephen nodded and looked down at his lap.

“Well,” Wong said, “letting you go alone would be very irresponsible of us.”

Looking up beneath his bangs, Stephen pressed his hands together and made a circle.

“Yeah,” the smile on Mordo’s face was small, but no less bright. “ _Together_.”

“Good,” Wong said. “Now, put some _clothes_ on, Strange.”

oOo

Far above the lights of the expo, Tony led the drones and the War Machine armour higher into the sky. New York stretched out beneath him, lights flickering like a giant mass of stars. “I’m going to slow down,” he called back at Rhodey, “make sure you keep shooting at me and keep an eye on those drones!”

_“Tony! No! Are you **insane** —?!”_

The red and gold suit dropped into a barrel roll. “We have to give security time to clear the park!” The wind and bullets howled around Tony and he gritted his teeth.  For a long moment, there was just harsh breathing on both ends of the comms.

 _“Alright,”_ Rhodey said, _“what about the drones that can’t fly?”_

“Working on it.”

oOo

Pepper watched with eyes that glimmered like the lights in a darkened staircase as Rushman shoved Justin Hammer to the side and stormed away. “Tell me everything you know,” she said to the man at the computer.

oOo

Concrete crunched under metal as the drones braced themselves. Massive machine guns lowered, pointing first at the crowd, then up, higher and higher, focusing on the Iron Man suit. Above them, hurtling over the Expo, Tony gritted his teeth and braced himself.

A flash of orange, and metal twisted, melted, turning into sloppy goop that bubbled like a mud pit. Even more of the drones burst into clouds of swirling, purple and blue butterflies that fluttered over the panicking crowd.

Tony shot over the area and laughed, looking down at the man standing underneath one of the broad, branch trees.

Stephen Strange lowered his hands before turning to a woman who had been slammed against a park bench by the stampede and helped her to her feet.

oOo

Rhodey’s voice came in, static-y and broken. _“I got another squadron on the southwest corner—but most of them are just chasing you, Tony!”_ There was a note of panic to his tone. _“He just wants **you**!”_

“Well,” the massive, metal globe popped up on the screen and Tony grinned. “I guess I’ll give him what he wants.”

_“What are you—no! No, no, no! Wait!”_

oOo

Stephen slapped his crackling, burning whip around one of the drone’s neck, snapping the head off. Another exploded to pieces on his left and Mordo lowered the Staff of the Living Tribunal.

“Something about this seems unfair,” he said. “Like picking on a child.”

Summoning a crackling mandala, Stephen flung it like a Frisbee. It sliced through three more of the drones, dropping their snapping, sparking pieces to the ground before vanishing into an explosion of fireworks.

Wong, to his other side, snapped his fingers and the cameras moving around to focus on them exploded in a shower of plastic. “If this isn’t entertaining enough,” he said, “I’m sure I could mention it to the Masters.”

Hiding his grin, Stephen bounded up the stairs to the massive presentation pavilion just as more of the drones lifted off into the sky. As one, the three sorcerers lifted their hands, sling rings glinting under the artificial lights.

The drones went through a massive portal, vanishing into the emptiness of space.

oOo

Explosions rocked the massive, steel globe in the middle of the Expo and tony grunted as Rhodey tackled him out of the sky and into the Oracle park with its cherry blossom trees and trickling creek. They bounced together, rolling over stone and grass before coming to a stop in the water.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Tony groaned and stumbled to his feet, “thanks for the warning, by the way.”

He was thrown on his ass, the massive machine gun pointing down at his face. Metal hands pointed the barrel up and away from his face as it fired into the ground. Pebbles and bullets ricocheted off the suit, creating a high pitched pinging sound that rattled inside Tony’s skull.

“Rhodey!”

_“I’m trying!”_

Tony screamed, machinery and muscles pushing as hard as they could until the War Machine armour sputtered and collapsed against him. “Ugh,” he grunted and shoved Rhodey off, taking a moment to just breathe. “I can’t believe I pay you for this.”

Rhodey’s voice was muffled inside the suit, echoing in the metal as he lay sprawled on his chest and face down in the water. _“You don’t pay me at all.”_

“It’s a friendship tax.”

There was a long, drawn out groan. _“I hate you.”_

Tony patted the grey butt of War Machine and blinked as a small screen popped up in the corner of his Iron Man monitor. “Look who it is,” he said to a familiar redhead. “Guess I found the SHIELD Agent.”

“Natalie Rushman gave him a half smirk through the screen. _“Well done on your new chest piece; your vitals all look promising.”_

The suit next to him powered back up. “Guess the world is stuck with me for just a little bit longer.”

 _“The park is mostly clear,”_ Pepper’s voice cut across the comms.

“Any casualties?”

There was a moment where she talked to someone and then her attention was back. _“None. Just a few injuries from people accidently trampling each other.”_

A sigh of relief lifted through the group. “Well done, Pepper Potts.”

She hummed, pleased.

Flipping Rhodey over, Tony tapped the helmet like a child against an aquarium. “Come on,” he said, “no nappy naps; we’ve got work to do.”

Hissing, the helmet popped open. Rhodey opened one eye at a time and stared up at the sky. “I can’t believe I ever let you talk me into this.”

Tony laughed and helped him to his feet.

oOo

Stephen heard Pepper before he saw her and shed his Cloak from his shoulders, heading around to the monitors where she was standing, phone in hand and eyes narrowed. Without the mass of red fabric, he was in just a dark blue t-shirt and some ripped up jeans. There was a man standing behind her right shoulder, a pair of broken glasses perched on his nose and in a vest, tie, and dress shirt.

Wong and Mordo went off to help with the evacuation, guiding people away from what remained of the drones and guiding them towards the exits even though the expo was mostly clear already.

Looking up from the screens for a moment, Pepper saw Stephen. She faltered before a huge smile brightened her features. “Stephen!” She called, motioning him over and pulling him into a hug. “It’s good to see you!” Pulling back, he frowned, taking in the marks on his face. “What happened?”

 _“Stephen’s there with you?”_ Tony’s voice came from the speakers. _“That’s not fair—”_

Pepper tugged Stephen around to the front of the computer where there were symbols marking the drones and a small window with both men’s faces and a redhead he didn’t know. The screens flickered occasionally, numbers and code flying by that he didn’t recognize. With one arm looped around his waist, fingers curled in the edge of his pocket, Pepper went back to talking on the phone.

 _“Tony,”_ Rhodey cut the other man off. _“We’ve got incoming.”_

 _“Yeah, yeah, I see them,”_ Tony looked at something then back up at the camera. His eyes moved over Stephen’s body, pausing on the bandages peeking out from the collar and sleeves of his shirt. _“You’re looking better.”_

Stephen nodded and glanced up as Mordo walked towards them, leading a group of officers. _Everyone clear?_

“Yes,” crossing his arms over his chest, Mordo stared Hammer down as he stammered out excuses while cuffs were snapped around his wrists. “We’re working on getting all the drones into one place for clean up.”

“Just you _wait_ —” Hammer sneered at Pepper as he passed her by and Mordo stepped forward, making sure his shoulder slammed into a chest, almost knocking the weapon’s developer off his feet.

Pepper watched the two officers lead the man away before she offered her hand. “Pepper Potts.”

“Karl Mordo,” he turned to Stephen and rolled his eyes. “Wipe that grin off your face, Strange.”

Stephen blinked innocently and watched as the symbols marking the droids on the computer vanished one by one.

“Tony and Rhodey can have their fun,” Pepper said, “I just want to be sure all the guests are safe.”

oOo

 _“Heads up,”_ Rushman who was probably not actually Rushman said, _“You’ve got incoming. This one looks different.”_

Tony watched as Stephen and Pepper walked off the screen before paying attention to the new drone flying in. It was alone, marked 001, and the symbol was larger than the others. He and Rhodey both looked up, oil splattered across their suits, at the sound of the repulsors. Around them the corpses of the Hammeroid invasion sparked and whirled uselessly.

Ivan Vanko landed.

Tony gritted his teeth.

oOo

Stephen wrapped the Cloak around his arm as he and Mordo followed the parade of officers behind Pepper. She was speaking to them, heels clacking against the concrete.

“I’m going to get Wong,” Mordo said, pulling the taller man to the side and speaking softly so he wasn’t overheard, “we’ll meet you back at the Sanctum before people decide to question while we’re here.”

Stephen nodded and watched him go, trailing behind the group of officers before stepping up next to Pepper. A cool breeze ruffled their hair as red, blue, and white lights danced across their skin, painting them in a mockery of the American Dream.

Humming, Pepper smiled up at him, tiredness playing across her features. “Staying with me?”

Nodding, he offered an arm and she hooked hers through it as they both looked over the Expo and police cars slowly moving up and down the streets, checking for any other people that were still around.

Pepper leaned into his arm and sighed. “I missed you,” she said and gently squeezed his forearm.

Leaning down, Stephen pressed his lips to the crown of her head and looked up at the sky.

oOo

A plasma whip snapped off the giant gun on the War Machine armour and Rhodey sighed. _“I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed this morning.”_

Tony laughed and there was a note of hysteria to it as he dodged the first slam of plasma into the ground. “Yeah?” he said, “And miss—oh _shit!_ ” The Iron Man suit hit a tree and he grunted as the wood splintered beneath the force.

 _“Like I said,”_ Rhodey said, rolling out of the way of the electricity until one of the whips caught him around the neck, wrench him forward, and a massive foot slammed into his chest.

The suit popped around Tony as the second whip snapped around his neck and he pulled at the plasma, grunted as sparks rained from red and gold metal. He pulled just enough to get the weight off Rhodey but watched as the War Machine armour was caught in the same hold.

“I got an idea!”

 _“Oh **no** ,”_ Rhodey groaned, bracing his feet on the grass and yelping as he slid forward. _“What kind of idea?”_

Tony lifted his hand and felt the repulsors whine as it opened. “Aim at me!”

_“Aim at— **what**?”_

He looked at Ivan and then back at the grey face of War Machine. “Just do it!”

“Alright!” Rhodey lifted his hand and took aim. “Do it, do it!”

They fired.

oOo

An explosion rumbled through the ground and Stephen braced himself and Pepper. Light shimmered across the skyline and faded, coming from the direction of the giant glass dome and Tony. Most of the officers had left and, if they hadn’t, were at the entrances to make sure people were safely on their way home.

 Stephen stayed with Pepper, unhooking their elbows so he could wrap an arm around her shoulders.

His attention was drawn to the nearest drone as it beeped. The middle flashed red, faster and faster.

 _Bomb_?

He sucked in a breath and fumbled for his sling ring.

“Stephen, what—”

_“Stephen!”_

The portal opened and Stephen managed to summon a giant, ball of gold around him and Pepper, taking her into his arms as something heavy slammed into the magic.

“Oh my god!” Pepper cried into his sternum as the two of them fell, heat blazing across their skin.

The portal closed, cutting off the explosion and Stephen sat with her partially in his lap, the SHIELD crumbling around them. Unwrapping from his arm, the Cloak of Levitation spun around its chosen, patting down his shoulders and back, checking for injury. Tony landed with a grunt, his armour sparking even as he managed to rip off the broken helmet and drop it to the roof.

“Hey, you—you two okay? You alright?”

Pepper was trembling in Stephen’s arms and wrenched free, panting and looking from the rooftop over the Stark Expo. There were lights from the police cruisers, explosions from the Hammer drones.

Moaning softly, she buried her head in her hands. “I can’t do this,” Pepper grumbled, “I actually _cannot_ do this right now.”

“Pepper—”

“Nope,” she said, lifting a finger to stop any more words. “Nope, you will give me a moment, Tony Stark.”

He nodded once. “Yes, ma’am.”

Stephen’s hands clenched and released over and over, his bangs sweaty against his forehead, body vibrating. He gritted his teeth and looked like the rumbling earthquake before a volcano.

Tony swallowed and tried to grin. “Am I in trouble?”

“You _idiot_!” The words ripped out of Stephen, hoarse and broken but loud enough to slice through the evening air.

Tony jerked, his eyes widening.

“What the _hell_ were you _thinking_? Just leaving me to find out that you were being threatened by a _terrorist_?” Hoarse baritone silenced the rest of New York and Stephen ran his hands through his hair and was shaking so hard he might as well take the building below them down with him.

A smile like the damn fucking _sun_ exploded across Tony Stark’s face and he was moving closer in his clunking, broken armour.

“Of all the _ridiculous_ , stupid—what are you _smiling_ about?”

Ripping off the gloves, Tony let them clatter to the ground as he cupped Stephen’s face. “Sorry,” he said, laughing wetly. “I just—I missed your voice.”

“I—” Stephen blinked, swallowed, and the words caught in his throat, turning into a low keen.

“Shhh,” Tony pulled him down, pressing their foreheads together. “You don’t have to force it just— _God_ Stephen.”

There was a swallow. “I’m still mad at you.” The words came out gruff and choppy from a throat that had gotten unused to using them. Everything felt so goddamn _raw_ but just fucking amazing.

“That’s fine,” Tony said with another laugh and didn’t even know if he was allowed to cry. “Fuck, Stephen I—”

“I love you.”

The words spilled out between them and Tony froze, his breath hitching.

Silver-blue eyes were like the gently foaming waves of the ocean until they hardened. _I might love you,_ they said, _but don’t ever do that again_.

Tony swallowed. “No more vanishing acts,” he said, “from either of us, I promise.”

Stephen hummed his approval, ran his fingers through Tony’s sweat damp hair, and pulled his bloody lips in for a kiss.

oOo

Tony received an invitation to some back alley creepy serial killer warehouse and sat in a plastic chair n front of a plastic table. The fact that it was set up as some sort of SHIELD office wasn’t creepy at all, but Fury had left out screens of news feed, a map marking several locations, and two folders—one of which was labelled as The Avengers.

He reached for it, despite the numerous agents standing around, and it was pulled out of his grasp.

“I don’t think I want you looking at that,” Fury said. “I’m not sure it pertains to you anymore.”

oOo

Standing before the Masters of Kamar-Taj, Stephen fought the urge to scratch at the bandages wrapped around his skin. He had gone back, had fetched the green and black creature that had been digging holes in reality and dragged it to the courtyard.

Xu was smiling at him from behind his beard and glanced over at Sol Rama who had his hands folded in his lap.

oOo

Looking over the printed pages, Tony frowned. “‘Not— _not_ recommended’? That doesn’t make any sense.” He narrowed his eyes and looked up at Fury. “How can you approve me but not approve me?” Letting the folder fall to the table, he tapped the Arc Reactor in his chest. “I got a new ticker and everything!”

oOo

“Master Strange,” Sol Rama’s eyes were shining. “The council has reached a decision.”

Stephen bowed his head.

oOo

“Then again, I will waive my customary retainer in exchange for one, _tiny_ favour.”

oOo

“You are to guard over the New York Sanctum. And if it comes down to it, you will fight to the death to defend it. Do you accept this duty?”

oOo

Nick Fury pinched his lips, but Tony could see the amusement glimmering in his eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”

oOo

Stephen straightened his shoulders and nodded.

oOo

The car roared into the garage and hummed as the engine was turned off. Tony left his keys in the seat and the door open as he bounded up the stairs and crashed into the man sitting in his living room. Stephen laughed as his lap was straddled and grinned as hands cupped his jaw, lifting his face up.

“Hey,” Tony said, “did you miss me?”

Trembling fingers tangled into a t-shirt and a rough yank pulled their mouths together.

_More than you will ever know._

 

 

* * *

 

_‘the most dangerous thing in this world is love,’ dionysius sighed._

_‘what if it doesn’t work out?’ i said._

_‘oh,’ he smiled, ‘but what if it **does**?’_

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> It's done it's ALL DONE thank you for reading!


End file.
